


Rendezvous Zero [Translation]

by UncrownedWanderer



Category: Tenet (2020)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Additional Warnings Apply, Alternate Universe - Sentinels & Guides, Alternate Universe - Sentinels and Guides Are Known, Angst, Angst and Feels, Auction, Canon-Typical Violence, Guide!Neil, Light Asphyxiation, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Porn With Plot, Sentinel!The Protagonist, Sentinel/Guide Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:07:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 65,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28220640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UncrownedWanderer/pseuds/UncrownedWanderer
Summary: Strangely, as the scene from my memory melted away, I understood my feelings for him. It came at the wrong time and the wrong place, in a cramped hotel room, with half a bottle of cheap booze between us. If I told Neil that I had fallen in love with him, how would he have responded?That’s too bad for you, maybe he would say,because I’ve already burned out all my love on your future self.
Relationships: Neil/The Protagonist (Tenet)
Comments: 84
Kudos: 82





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Rendezvous Zero](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26373868) by [Knott](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Knott/pseuds/Knott). 



> I'm thrilled that I got to translate the best fanfic I have ever read. Thank you so much, @Knott, for creating this masterpiece! It's gonna work your brain the same way the movie does with all the twists, angst, and love. The Sentinel/Guide trope fits Tenet so amazingly well. It's gonna be a wild ride, so prepare your brain, and maybe some tissues :)
> 
> If you are new to Sentinel/Guide, here is a primer of the AU:[Sentinelverse](https://themadkatter13fanfiction.tumblr.com/post/113352159488/au-basics-sentinelverse)
> 
> Last but certainly not least, a big shoutout to my girl [@yan_zi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yan_zi/pseuds/yan_zi) for betaing!! You are the best!

I knew things would come to this when that Albanian man shot me. The bullet destroyed the last suppressant I had on me, as well as our hope of leaving this place. Bonding heat was playing havoc with me, yet my guide was an entire strait away. Not to even mention the guys coming after us and our already exposed identities. 

That night, after Neil had fallen asleep, I untied my belt and clenched one end of it between my teeth. I cuffed one of my hands to the headboard and drew out my dagger with the other. The light was faint, just a little bit shining through the window, but it was enough. _Hope I won’t scream out in a moment_ , I mocked myself in my head. Just as I was listening to my suddenly accelerating pulse and trying to locate the spot with the strongest scent, I smelled that guide. With a hand blocking my arm from the back, his dissuading move stalled my grip.

“What are you doing?” His gentle question felt like it was intended to mock. It was Neil, an old acquaintance of mine.

“Standard operating procedure,” I answered grumpily.

Hearing my response, Neil almost showed a faint smile. Maybe when you witness someone about to pierce his neck with a blade, and he calls that ridiculous process a standard operating procedure, you might find it laughable too. He cast me a glance, and I shrugged. He nonchalantly took back the hand that was blocking my arm, then threw a pillow at me. The fluffy object covered my view, and when it fell, he had already left my bedside. Neil’s expression had returned to an unruffled look. It was the same expression he wore fourteen days ago when he convinced me to go on this job.

“Use the pillow.” Neil amicably suggested. “It’ll be more — how do you sentinels normally say it? — effective.”

“I think I know what effective means, thanks.” My face darkened. “Do you really have experience with this?”

Neil crossed one leg on top of the other, taking his sweet time studying the palms of his hands. “Is your name really Ellis?”

I made a tsk sound. I had spent too much time chatting. I was getting annoyed, and what made me more annoyed was what I was about to do in front of this guide. Speaking of etiquette, I was older than him, but Neil was never the type to care about seniority and such. It was difficult to gauge his weak spot.

“Hey, get out,” I snapped my fingers at this guide, “if you wanna see it for free, you gotta buy me a drink first.”

“Why?” Neil lightly bit the tip of his tongue and licked his bottom lip, then said, “You gonna dance?”

“Depends on the music. Hey, I’m serious,” I nodded toward the door, “get out.”

“Of course,” Neil seemed to be casually thinking about something. His voice was unperturbed, yet it had an attitude that forbade rejection — but at least the lingering tease was gone. “But maybe — letting me stay would be more beneficial to you.”

I frowned. _Is this flirting?_ As I wondered what the ambiguous answer to this question was, Neil had already paced to the other side of the room. He sat on the only presentable chair we had. With his hand, he signaled for me to continue, one of his shoulders gracefully yet whimsically raised, as if conducting the nonexistent music in the air. Among the people I knew, Neil was someone who could communicate a lot with just his hands. He made it feel like we were at a sailing club, the waiter had told us that they ran out of champagne, and Neil was asking to change the drink to white wine. 

However, it was not like I had the luxury to be thinking about wine or champagne now. I lowered my head to resume moving the blade while he closed his eyes and leaned back in that chair. My back was stiff and my muscles tense, just like the very first time I treated my own bullet wound — the only difference being back then, I was neither in a safehouse nor sitting in front of a guide. 

Neil wearily sunk in the chair, looking almost asleep. We were both exhausted — we were just trying our best not to show it.

I glanced at his stubbled chin and spaced out for a moment. Maybe I shouldn’t have been curious about how he would have looked without a shave or how long it would take for the bruise near his temple to fade. He somehow did not feel like the Neil I knew. Perhaps that was why I was so distracted. His bruise at the corner of his mouth made his lips look like a withering rose, a fallen one that had been stepped on in the rain, leaving behind only its tarnished color. 

I clenched my teeth to fight a sudden shiver down my spine, unsure if it was because of my bonding heat or the coldness in the air. I tried to steady the blade against my sweaty skin. 

The wings of Neil’s nose gently rose and fell with his every breath. The opaque mirror near the bed reflected most of the room. In it, I looked like an ouroboros in the midst of a clumsy attempt to find its own shed skin. _Anyways_ , I tried to comfort myself, _at least Neil isn’t trying to speak again._

I grasped the dagger, aimed at the right spot, and sliced open my skin with only the first try. 

To be honest, this kind of tickling pain was nothing compared to the wound the Albanian man left me with. What I was truly worried about was the depth, or how deep I was supposed to gouge out once the blade went in. For the sake of getting it over with once and for all, I held my breath while trying to bring my amateur anatomy knowledge into play. 

For a good while, I had forgotten the existence of Neil in the room. But as if he was summoned, that young guide suddenly opened his eyes amidst the silence. His sight swept across the room and landed on my face. And suddenly all the bad jokes I had prepared in mind were gone. My quivers had become more obvious. I had to clutch my hand with all my will in order to suppress it. 

But his gaze was still fixed on me.

I didn’t know what kind of expression I was wearing back then, maybe one that was begging him to look away. But Neil just smiled. 

“What are you going to do then, when we return to Vietnam?” I heard him say.

“I will figure something out,” I uttered half-heartedly. 

“To explain to Kat?”

“To survive,” I almost barked. “Listen, I don’t like the current situation either, but someone’s gotta do something. The bullet hit me, they have my scent down. If you don’t want those rabid maniacs at our heels, then don’t interrupt me again.”

Neil’s expression became easier to read yet his face was not pale. I turned away my head. I have always been trained to act before thinking too much. I tilted down my grip of the sharp blade, lowered my shoulder, and leaned my head to one side as much as I could. 

As I probed the tip into my wound, I was hoping this guide would give up first. I thought I was going to hear his footsteps leaving the room, but it was just the opposite, he was actually approaching me, even at an unhurried pace. 

_Great. Now I have to pause so that I don’t splash blood on his face._

Irritated, I turned around, then I saw Neil standing at my left, calmly lifting his hand. That hand gently stroked up to my face, and I froze. However, when I looked at him in the eyes, what I saw was not a lustful guide, but a perfectly sober face. 

He gave me a smile, slowly traced his hand down my neck, and landed it on my shoulder with a pat. I helplessly stared at him. _This must be another one of his whims. Whenever he made a sudden change of plan, you could never figure out if he did it to ridicule you or himself._ At least his gesture spoke of a willingness to help instead of to tease. 

The hand that was resting on my left shoulder was then patting my back. I suddenly understood what he was hinting, and I gulped. 

_He's not having a bonding heat. Why would he want to help me?_

I stared at this guide as if I didn't know him anymore. Neil was not offended at all. He gave me a cordial blink. He leaned over, and one loose end of his scarf brushed against my arm. I heard him whispering by my ear. 

“Hey.” Neil glanced at the dagger in my hand. With an intentional pause between his words, he subtly communicated what was left unsaid. “You don’t have to do that.”

I shrugged like I was laughing at myself, using it as a move to express a certain point.

“What else can I do?”

Neil made an even more explicit move than mine — he simply looked at himself, making his intention very apparent.

“We still got time, and time is to our advantage.” I had heard Neil talking about physics with the same relaxed tone, but it was my first time seeing anyone talk about the bodies of another person and his own like that. “Plus, it’s very common. It’s not gonna hurt anyone.”

I had never seen anyone so elegantly describe the act of sleeping with a stranger or say it so unemotionally like it was a mathematical formula instead of a strategic decision that one had to make. Of course, we were not complete strangers, but this did not make me feel any better. What made me feel more bizarre was how he seemed to know all along that he would be able to convince me.

“You can kill a person, but you can’t sleep with a guide in your mission squad?” Tilting his head, Neil directed his gaze all over me. 

“Maybe I’ve lost my edge,” I taunted, “I’ve gone soft.”

“Your edge is still intact, and you are never soft,” Neil presented his ground methodically, “I’m still waiting here.”

I felt extremely offended but at the same time somewhat humored. 

This was who Neil was: always only dedicating half of his mind to the missions. When you thought you had everything in control, he would just stand there quietly observing you. I had never figured out if all guides were like this or if it was only him. When a mission ended and you sat down with him for coffee, Neil would casually bring up his observations. But those seemingly unreasonable conclusions of his — “You are starting to trust me”, “I figured you won’t tell Kat this time”, or “No, you never really liked Johannesburg” — were all his unique ways of regaining control.

I wondered if it would be the same this time. Did Neil already know that suppressant was my last one? Did he already know that I had been caught in bonding heat since that Ukrainian mercenary stabbed a syringe in my neck four days ago? 

I snickered yet the look in his eyes didn't answer any of my doubts. He just looked at me like he knew all along what kind of decision I would make. This completely kicked me out of my self-mocking mood and provoked me instead. 

My reputation for being competitive in every possible aspect had been established ever since my training camp days. I raised my other hand, seized him by his scarf, and pulled him to me. He appeared to be teasing for a moment. Maybe he found my change of manner amusing. 

I raised my head yet intentionally moved away just when I was about to touch his lips, pressing a kiss to the side of his neck instead. 

He dramatically inhaled, making the same sound as when sipping a mouthful of overly icy beer. 

I tried to bite down hard, but he dodged it. He quickly pushed his hand at the back of my head to stop me. I was somewhat surprised. The smile on his face remained, but now it made him seem like he had exposed a certain lie.

“Policy is to suppress, remember?” Neil said, “We better refrain from going through unnecessary troubles.”

I fixed my eyes on him. His ears were red, but he didn’t look flustered.

“I just wanted to make this easier for you,” I explained indifferently. 

“No, you don’t,” he said with absolute certainty. He put on that _I know you from the inside out_ look again.

I thought I might as well just stay put and let this guide decide how we continue. I crossed my arms as Neil studied me with a discerning gaze.

“How well trained is your shield?”

“It has been penetrated during training before,” I briefly recalled, “but I don’t need my shield when dealing with bonding heat.”

Neil nodded but did not explain why he asked. He stood up and scrutinized me thoughtfully. I furrowed my brows, but just as I was about to question him, he gracefully took his next step. 

I watched him take in a deep breath, one that someone would do before diving into deep water. Instead of feeling humiliated, I actually felt a little weirded out. 

I joked, “What? Do I need to perform a lap dance?” 

Some other abrasive words were at the tip of my tongue, but I immediately forgot all about them because — Neil had walked to me from the other side of the room, and he straddled my lap. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you [@yan_zi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yan_zi/pseuds/yan_zi) for betaing!

I didn’t expect much out of this. I had done similar things in the past. When it came to this, regardless of the guide’s willingness, things would always end up the same — mutually probing, selfishly exploiting, finally, everything becomes insufferably boring. Working too long in the field of intelligence would leave you with a consequence — you can never determine how truthful the other is. But maybe it would be different with Neil. He was not a member of my squad; he was just a go-between assigned to me by those folks, and hence stabilizing sentinels was not his job. 

The guide in the white linen suit sat on my lap with his hands on my shoulders, which was by nature not part of his duties. Yet he behaved so at ease. He showed no signs of the impatience normally seen in new guides. Another thing that set him apart was he never looked away from my eyes, which I found to be very intriguing. _He is observing you_ , I said to myself. 

“What are you doing?” I raised an eyebrow, toning my voice to one of raillery. 

“Standard operating procedure,” he answered with a straight face. Although he presented no intention to scoff, I was so sure that this was his revenge. 

In an intelligence mission, if your squad members were exposed, you must first take care of the guide — “take care of” meant to become his sentinel, so that if he ended up in the enemy’s hands, he would not talk. You would not like it, but it was your duty. So you would have no choice but to force yourself through it. At least that’s what they taught you in the London Tower. But I didn’t remember the process itself being so complex — or shall I say, elegant. 

Neil embraced my neck, pressing his forehead against mine. I could sense his every breath. I could have easily claimed his lips with just a slight raise of my head. 

He leaned his face so near that our exhales converged. I heard him whispering something to himself, then he lifted his other hand from my waist. He held my head up with both hands, and with our foreheads pressed against each other’s, we were like a couple from a chocolate commercial, except this was not the right time or the right place. I unwillingly lifted my head up to display the disfavor in my eyes but saw that Neil’s eyes were not fixed on my face.

I experienced slight displeasure: the way his eyes looked was absent-minded and lacking focus. He was looking at someone else through me. 

“Neil,” I called out.

“Give me a little bit of time,” he muttered, still staring at that nonexistent focal point through me, “I must establish our sync.”

 _Fine, if all that sappy fondling was for this purpose._ I gave up on commenting, letting him tenderly tilt my head. His cold fingers pressed against my temples, eyes half-lidded like he wanted to explore everything inside my brain. _Maybe I should take a few deep breaths_ , I jeered inwardly. Establishing spiritual synchronization with an unfamiliar guide was just like going to the dentist for the first time. The Sentinel Handbook would tell you it can’t do any harm, but that was all bullshit. The feeling of yourself gradually becoming transparent would be harder to endure than pain.

I closed my eyes. Neil’s hand hung from my left shoulder. I sensed a movement, like a breeze caressing the depth of a forest. I could not control the clenching of my teeth, and almost immediately, Neil’s empath flew into my mind like a hummingbird — not aggressive or rampant, but quick, light, and exact. The disturbance caused by bonding heat calmed; the overwhelming tide became a rhythmic wave that brushed against the reef shore. 

After I caught my breath, I used my instinct as a sentinel to search for this guide. But upon entering my mind, he became ethereal and faded, maintaining the same feeling of distance as his sighs next to my lips. I snapped my eyes open and looked right into his riveted eyes. 

“How do you feel?” He asked.

“Not bad,” I decided to at least throw some response back, “where did you learn this trick?”

Neil smiled but did not respond. There was no joy in his eyes, only his ever so obvious contemplation. Some possible scenes flashed in my brain: planting a kiss on his neck, forcing him to helplessly lean back his head, or tightly pulling his hair, making his spine shiver for me — I could have actually used force on this guide; I didn’t understand why I was wasting so much time. 

He pressed his lips together and inhaled. There was no doubt that he had synchronized all the scenes in my head. His gaze was lost for a second but he quickly recovered. Maybe because he sensed how close I was to crossing that boundary, his voice became a little hoarse. I was silently restraining myself as my eyes met his. He shook his head — completely lacking the fluster of a guide who was subject to a sentinel’s ravaging. He closed in with almost too much affection and kissed my neck. Just as I was shocked by his sudden enthusiasm, his dexterous hands undid my buttons and wandered beneath my shirt; they kept traveling downward until I clutched his wrist. 

I tightened my grasp. And Neil trembled. Right before I was close to breaking his arm, he held something high up in the air like a surrendering soldier. It was my sensory deflector — I snorted but did not release him. The guide watched me in lingering trepidation; his forehead covered in sweat. Maybe I shouldn’t have acted so violently, but he also shouldn’t have thought of me as a hormone-controlled fool.

“I need to turn it off,” Neil’s voice was somewhat unsteady due to the pain, “it’s gonna interfere with our empathic connection. You’re not gonna like that.”

“Well, I reckon you can do this whole thing by yourself then. My help isn’t needed.” I failed to swallow back my deriding remarks, “Anything else you plan to do without asking for permission?”

Neil just stayed silent. I then figured out why I had been feeling uncomfortable since the very beginning.

“There’s something only you know, but you don’t want to tell me.”

“It won’t help,” Neil said, “Knowing it beforehand won’t help you at all. You must let me continue.”

I knew he was speaking the truth, but I didn’t like how this was going. I stared at his face with furrowed brows; his eyes didn’t waver. I shook my head and let him go. Neil turned off the still-humming sensory deflector and threw it behind me. His comical moves, both the fiddling of the flashing device and the unruffled throw of it, were a travesty of some character from a spy film. 

He returned before I got the chance to tease him. He straightened his back and monopolized my view with a coquettish smile on his face. All I could see was him — his lips, his reddened ears, his canine teeth that braced against his tongue. Somehow I saw a determination in his eyes like he was burning his own boat, which I totally did not understand; I even thought he was being dramatic. 

Without the deflector, my thoughts were quickly taken over by bonding heat. I already had him captured in my arms and proceeded to pull on his clothes. But he grasped me by the back of my head with his hands and resisted. I never knew taming a guide would be this complicated. We were dancing a strange dance. Every move was out of our control, but instead a pure battle between instinct and logic. 

Neil struggled in my arms; his ankles grinding against my legs. And I was trying to tear his shirt as I forcibly restrained him at a distance. 

After three minutes or so, the guide abruptly stiffened his body. At the same time, a strong shiver also conquered mine. I sucked in a gulp of air. Neil raised his head. We held our breaths and found each other’s eyes. 

I felt like I found myself in his eyes, my reflection maybe. He moved his lips to speak, but I grabbed him and blocked what he was going to say with my mouth. He moaned. His fingers had lost their dexterity and were by then weakly grabbing onto me. For a couple of minutes, he let me do whatever I wanted. But he resumed resisting when I ripped open his clothes to find the place where I was supposed to bite. I paused but decided to keep going. He then severely panted and bit my shoulder. 

I stopped. 

Some of my logic came back—I didn’t expect Neil to pull that on me. We stayed still for a while, trying to catch our breaths again. We cautiously watched each other as if what just happened never happened. Neil’s hair was damp with sweat, sticking on his forehead, looking somewhat like a mess. The trace of blood near his lips was pure provocative seduction. But I decided to hold my horses.

I had missed my chance of being autopiloted by instinct. 

After a few more wheezes, Neil managed to place his hands on my shoulders again. I wanted to help—to make up for my previous roughness—but he dodged my touch. A guide like Neil would never verbally scold you; he would rather use his silence and smirks to communicate that. He lowered his head, retreating to his thoughts as if he was the only one playing the game. I began tenderly rubbing his back. He leaned toward me and rested his chin on my shoulder. 

This time I pulled him into a tight embrace, and he was a little slow to hide his daze. I could feel our heartbeats pressing against each other. His hands were on my back, gradually gripping onto my shirt. 

At the same second when his fingers formed the tightest lock, our perception hooked onto each other. The resonance was strengthening, and I was brought into the mind of this guide. 

I was like a man who had been drifting amidst the ocean for days, and suddenly I saw a dove with the olive branch. Like someone who had been freezing in the snow, I was at a loss of what to do with his warmth. 

Neil quickly established an empathic connection with me, a sign of an outstanding guide. However, I was confused because he let me go too deep with only one try. His mindscape had no barriers. He neither established a shield for himself nor did he appear like he needed one. I had dived into the depth of a torrential waterfall, and I had to concentrate. This was far too different from the cautious, shielded guides I was used to. 

I had many questions but the look on his face told me it was not the time to talk yet. His stubble was rubbing on my cheek. It was a little ticklish. Just then I realized how hot the bonding heat had made me. He quivered as I put my arms around his waist. His pressed lips were released, but he didn't seem a bit relaxed. Actually, he was stiff all over.

“How much do you remember from your resistance training?” He repeated that question, this time with a more serious face. 

“What?” I thought this was some sort of joke that I didn’t get.

“You may begin preparing,” Neil looked at his watch, then nodded to me. “You got ten seconds.”

Before I could respond, a dark countercurrent pounced on me. I was seized by a severe headache like I had a knife sawing my nerves apart somewhere deep in my mind. I looked toward Neil’s face, and his expression told me that he knew this was going to happen. There was not enough time for me to establish a shield—just like a skydiver failing to open his parachute in time. The first wave of backlash struck me, and I had no way out but to suffer through it. It felt like someone had hit my nose with an uppercut. _The only thing you can do is take a breath and steady your center of gravity,_ I told myself. Same as every beating I had ever gotten, I did not make a sound. 

But the second attack followed right after. An invisible hand pushed my head into the water, and I could hear no more as the turbulence submerged my head. I struggled in the bottomless water until another current propped me up — it was not strong enough to push me above the water, but it gave me a chance to breathe, which was enough time for me to open up my rusty shield. I hadn’t used it in five or six years. I expanded my mental stance, barely managing to hold myself steady under the brutal surge. When I had finally broken away from that humongous, black hole-like mental force, I was drowning in sweat. 

I pushed myself up and gasped for air under my unabating fear. Yet the guide in front of me gave me an affirmative smile, as if saying, _look, you made it_.

I glared at him. As soon as I caught my breath, I immediately grasped his neck in my hands, trying to give him a taste of what I just experienced.

“You are a dark guide, right?” I growled, “Who is your sentinel? What else haven’t you told me?!”

I squeezed tight on his trachea, imprinting bruises on his neck, but he still did not reveal anything. Though he did show a hint of an apology. For the first time, he seemed to be panicking, but not due to fear. I couldn’t tell what it was; I could not read him. It appeared as I had him under control, but I knew well that the ball was in his court. Perhaps that was what made me furious. I pulled him up a little by his throat, and oxygen deficiency made his face flushed. 

“Lis...ten,” his words stuttered, “you have...al..ready...come this far...just t...trust me.”

 _God, this is truly the lamest excuse I have ever heard._ The way he was meekly submitting without explaining himself agitated me. I stared into his watery eyes while listening to myself panting. I _could_ send him straight to hell; I wasn’t afraid to stain my hands with a guide’s blood. But for some reason, I got tired of all this — violence, and the lies. I reluctantly loosened my grip and gave him a warning with the look in my eyes. But he pressed my hands back on himself when I was going to take them away. 

I stared at him in stunned disbelief. His eyes — _oh no one has ever looked at me like that_. 

“You like this,” I stated. It was not a disdainful line, but given the circumstances, maybe I meant to disdain.

Neil put on his silently forbearing look again. It made me frustrated. I did it again — binding his neck and dragging my force downward. I was much gentler than before but I played a trick, stroking my thumb against where his trachea was. Then his arms fell from my shoulders, and he leaned his neck to the side for me to kiss — he surrendered. 

I picked Neil up and threw him on my bed. Since he was sitting on my lap, all I had to do was to stand up — he acted like a docile puppy and expressed no protest of my action. After landing on my bed, he turned on his stomach without me even asking, allowing me to pull off his pants and underwear. I hesitated if I should let him keep his shirt — but honestly by then, what was the use of upholding a sense of shame? I grabbed the sleeves of his shirt at his wrists and started to take them off. He remained still for a second before lifting his arm to help. After his very last piece of clothing was gone, I reached for his scarf, but he froze. 

“You’re not going to like what you will see.” He sneered.

“What? You got some unpresentable tattoos there? I served in the military, brat. Got to see all kinds of tattoos there.”

As I spoke, I pulled off Neil’s scarf. 

An appalling wound tarnished his neck; it was a very hideous scar. 

I paused my movements, but I pretended like I didn’t see it. I threw his scarf on top of the pile of clothing, spit on my hand, and probed my finger into his ass. I was waiting for him to return some of my scorns, like “now I know what you learned from where you served”, but Neil was actually very quiet. Too quiet. He almost did not let out any sounds as I worked on him. All I saw was his fingers grasping the sheet. Occasionally, his back would twitch when I went too deep, and whenever that happened, an artery would visibly pulsate on his neck. Through his messy blond hair, I saw the haze in his eyes — like the surface of an ocean at moonrise. His teeth ground on his bottom lip. A drop of sweat alluringly hung by his Adam’s apple. 

In front of a sentinel like me, there was no secret a guide’s body could hide. But I was uncomfortable; this whole thing had felt strange from the beginning, no matter if it was his enduring attitude, his neck wound, his mysterious background, or his unspoken secret. 

Nevertheless, I had to continue because it was too late to back out — if I changed my mind, our connection would snap, and it would hurt him more — I especially disliked the latter because it made me think maybe this guide had even predicted that I would not stop. As a guide, Neil showed many conflicting signs: he hinted that it was not his first time, yet his behavior exposed the fact that he had not been touched for a long time. I could have done better with the prep, but I wanted to make it a little difficult for him. 

Enough foreplay. I thrust in. Neil whimpered, moving forward to get away, but I held his waist tightly in place. 

The following act was not tender or caring. It was more like performing a routine that had to be done. If only I wasn’t in a fit of anger, I wouldn’t have been so rough with him from the start. I left him with no time to breathe, jolting into him one after another. A quiet scream escaped him, but then there were no more sounds. I nailed him under me as I penetrated him. At first, he had himself propped up on his elbows, but eventually, his arms collapsed. With his arms powerlessly extended, the top half of him laid idly on the sheet as his bottom half still jerked at my pace. I could kiss the scent gland by his neck to make him feel better, but I looked away, unwilling to touch that contorted scar — my instinct told me that it came with a story, and the story had nothing to do with me. I could be crueler, maybe I would.

— only if I didn’t see what happened next.

As I watched him, this guide suddenly lifted one arm, and then the other. He positioned both hands behind his back palms up and extended them toward me. Speaking more precisely, his shivering palms were reaching for my fingers. As I was still perplexed by his action, he brought his wrists together and offered them to me. I gingerly held onto that pair of hands, then his stiffened body immediately softened. He was a trained guide, and he let me clasp his wrists — I could not explain it, but something in his action had touched me. 

I still clasped his wrists, but I was no longer rough. I slowed down, and then everything happened the way it should that night. 

We finally got to leave after two days. After we embarked on the ship, Ives was the first one to welcome us. He was shocked by the tension between me and Neil. But what could I say? We had been like this ever since that night. Once he greeted Ives, Neil immediately went into the cabin, leaving me on the deck with the other sentinel. Ives seemed to be very interested in how I escaped from death, and I was more than happy to talk about whatever that could distract me.

“We thought you were dead!” The other sentinel shouted amidst the sea breeze, “Seventy-two hours! How did you make it?”

“Um, I grabbed onto the nearest guide.” What an old-fashioned joke.

“Cowboy shit,” Ives shook his head, “I hope you aren’t talking about Neil.”

“Why,” I tried to poke fun at him, “Isn’t Neil a guide?”

Ives looked at me like I was the most ridiculous idiot in the world. “He had a sentinel, and that guy abandoned him. He’s been like that since then. If you’re half as smart as you look, you should know to stay away; if you’re smarter, you should have known that he is a dark guide — rare, yes, but also unpopular.”

I had more questions but Ives shut his mouth. I turned around. The guide who we were just talking about had returned to the other end of the ship. He stood there watching a seagull flying against the wind. Ives patted me on the shoulder and left. 

What made me unable to look away was Neil’s face — maybe this sounded strange, but after that night, I felt like we had grown even further apart.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For my friends who are unfamiliar with Sentinel/Guide, a dark guide is someone with extraordinary guide powers. Dark guides are much stronger than others in empathic abilities, but because of how strong they are, they are very challenging for most sentinels to bond with. The bonding might also not be very pleasant for the sentinels.
> 
> I love comments because as a translator, I want to fangirl about this story with more lovely people:) Please feel free to leave your thoughts!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betaed by [@yan_zi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yan_zi/pseuds/yan_zi)

My life until then had been very simple: Rosetta would send guides, and I would meet them at designated locations. These perfect strangers would help me complete the mission, and then part ways with me at designated locations.

Yes, they came from the future, but as long as you didn’t think too much about it, you could hang with them in peace. 

In the official wording, this was for the sake of “resource integration”, but among the sentinels, everyone knew the real reason: we had no more guides, so we had to borrow them from the future. 

A typical temporal pincer movement would take at least two hours; the longest one took, however, forty-one days. So you better get along with the friends from the future. They were mercenaries, and no one knew who hired them. These folks had been trained. They knew how to work with sentinels, some of them were even outstanding, but they would always make you uncomfortable: the one I knew was one of them. 

Usually, you would not partner with the same guide more than once. But it just so happened that Neil and I had partnered not twice, or thrice, but four times. Nothing had gone wrong, and I thought I was already used to having him in my team. 

The guides Rosetta bestowed on us never stayed after missions, so I had never heard of any sentinels being involved with them. Some sentinels thought they looked down on us, but I knew that wasn’t true — judging from my experience with Neil, he was no different from the ordinary guides I had met at training camps. 

I had been living this kind of life for five years. Every time was the same — get on a boat, meet the new guide at the lighthouse, then send him back within fifteen days. If the guide was heavily injured or died, the situation would become unpleasant. But most of the time, all I had to endure was just boredom while sailing at sea. The guides normally would not initiate conversations. Neil was the first to converse with me. During the past year, we had actually established some sort of friendship. However, it took this failed assassination mission for me to realize that I knew nothing about him, but he knew everything about me. 

Ives was going to escort us to the lighthouse. Just like every previous time, that would be where I would send Neil off. I would wait for my boat, and Neil would continue sailing on the ship to return to where he belonged. 

Rosetta Corp’s cargo ship was as spacious and luxurious as always, but somehow it made me miss home. The ship was filled with sentinels from Rosetta. I almost had no chance of speaking with that guide during the two days of sailing. Occasionally, I caught a glimpse of him in the crowd and saw that he had put his usual guise on. Just leaving things like this would not have been the worst outcome I had ever experienced, even though I did have the chance to learn more about him. 

I could not sleep the night before coming ashore. I walked out of the cabin and came on the deck, wishing to have some alone time. 

I wandered to the boat deck and found Neil standing there with his arms crossed, watching the sea. 

That uncomfortable feeling subtly recaptured me again. My instincts told me, _maybe this guide knew I would come here_.

I walked to his side, and he turned to look at me. 

“Don’t smile like that,” I said.

“Am I smiling?”

“You are. What are you so happy about?” I asked.

“Even though the mission failed, at least I did find one thing — your trust in me.” 

“Or maybe I was just tired,” I said, “what are they going to do to you since the mission failed?”

“You don’t need to worry about that.” He answered blithely as if we were talking about someone else’s safety. 

If he didn’t even care, why should I? I changed the topic, “Did you come here because you have something to say to me?”

“How much do you know about Rosetta?”

“CIA’s broker,” I answered without a doubt, “not now, but in the future. They will be responsible for training guides.”

“Not only that,” Neil answered. I waited for him to finish, but he stopped. It was that look again, the look of understanding and secrecy combined. 

“Whatever Rosetta is, it’s none of my business.” I was slightly frustrated. “What are you really trying to say?”

“Don’t go on the next job,” Neil hesitated for a moment, “if they designate it to you.”

“I only slept once with you. You’re not Mrs. Ellis yet. I’d rather it be my decision.”

“So would I,” he said something I did not comprehend, “I’d rather it be my decision too.”

I presumed it to be Neil’s way of poking fun at me, so I just let it go. He was an attractive guide, blond hair, refined composure, always knowing his place. He would never steal someone else’s show. He seemed like someone you could easily read, always amiable and pleasant. Yet Ives told me there were secrets in him; he had a sentinel, and his past—like all our pasts—hid in the dark.

Glancing at his face, I thought of his scar. I always thought of myself as someone who wasn’t easily moved. Years at the CIA had hardened my heart. But everything about Neil kept bothering me. Was I that type of sentinel? The type with a hero complex, dying to save all guides in distress? But Neil had never asked for my help. He didn’t even mention a bit of what would be waiting for him once he returned to Rosetta.

“So this is goodbye, right?” I subtly changed the topic. “I originally wanted to kiss you.”

“No, you didn’t,” Neil laughed. “You just want to free yourself from me.”

After exposing my intentions, he left. It was not until he vanished from my sight that I remembered what I originally had planned to ask him — _will we meet again?_ It was highly unlikely that Neil would have given me an answer if I asked. I had parted ways with many guides that were thrown to me from the future on this boat. None of them behaved like Neil did: bidding farewell to him felt like a reunion.

With my identity concealed, I dwelled in Bloomsbury for a while until I was summoned again. Different from last time, I received no information about the job and no specific commands. 

The original plan was to spend this Saturday afternoon enjoying a drink with Kat at the sailing club, but rather, I was now strolling with Sir Crosby in the fine rain. Crosby was one of us, but from what I heard, he no longer worked for them. If this important figure from the London Sentinel Base had to personally explain the mission to me, the matter had to be very unusual. What was more unusual was how Michael Crosby behaved — he called me here, but even until now, he had not spoken one word about the mission.

Using his cane, this aged sentinel sauntered in the park with me, casually popping one question after another.

“How was your last job? I heard you were injured.”

“Shot in the back, yes,” I purposely left out the suppressant part, “but I survived.”

“Some of us always do, don’t we?” He did not look at me. “Yet some might not have the luck.”

“Depending on the perspective, one man’s luck might be another man’s misfortune.”

“Well said. I believe you are now ready to set out again?”

I didn’t rush to respond. I just smiled. Neil’s warning flashed in my head: “if they designate it to you.”

“Who am I working for?” I asked. 

“Not for us, that’s all I can tell you. You will get a guide just as always. But remember, only you know the true goal of this job. The Rosetta guide will only be a go-between. _And_ , you have to get rid of him when it ends.”

I listened with a straight face. _Should I cross my fingers and pray for this unlucky guide to not be Neil now?_ This idea made me want to laugh. But on the surface, I remained emotionless. Crosby was a wily old fox, and never for a second did I forget that he was also a sentinel.

“What kind of a job?” I followed up, “I think you can tell me now.”

He looked away from me. “We have a sentinel missing,” he said, “from the future. Find him, and find out what really happened to him. That is your mission. You have thirty days. If captured, you must not expose our names.”

“Shouldn’t his guide be doing this?”

“It should be his guide,” he said, fixing his gaze on the trail amid the London plane trees. “But we have not found him.”

“What do you mean?” 

“Simply the literal meaning,” the old sentinel answered. “The last time anyone spotted him was in Istanbul, and he disappeared from then on — what the Guide House has reasoned is he plunged in and didn’t want us to find him. But he is not part of your job, the missing and potentially dead sentinel is. My advice is to focus on the job at hand. Don’t get involved in unnecessary troubles.”

“So this sentinel is very important to you?” I did not actually expect him to answer this question. “If he is someone important, it’s very possible that his guide has killed him — have you considered it? Maybe the truth is not as complicated as you think—”

“The truth,” Crosby abruptly interrupted, “is what we want you to find, Ellis. And we want it fast.”

I shrugged. “Then where is the guide?” I was happy to disguise myself with vulgarity; I loved to act like an ignorant fool whenever I talked with the upper tier of the base. “Which desolate lighthouse do I go to pick her up?”

“About that, ” Crosby suddenly radiated with spirit, “I already brought him here. How well trained is your shield?”

This was the second time I got asked this in the past thirty days. I could almost guess who that person was now. We had already reached the end of the winding road. But only when the rustle of falling leaves beneath our feet disappeared did I realize that I had arrived at the destination of this trip. 

A man was standing at the end of the trail, his figure veiled behind bedewed golden leaves. This guide had some intricate skills; he was capable of hiding near two sentinels but still remained undetected. This discovery should have surprised me, but I felt my heart come to a sudden drop. The name of my partner for the upcoming mission had become overwhelmingly clear, but I only wished I was wrong. 

Crosby came to a stop. With his animated and optimistic tone, he called out that guide’s name. That man turned around and extended his hand to me, and I froze right there.

“I’m Neil,” he introduced himself, “your guide for this job.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The protagonist: Neil, will we ever meet again? 
> 
> Also the protagonist: I can't believe it's you again, Neil.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you [@yan_zi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yan_zi/pseuds/yan_zi) for betaing!

Our first stop was the ridiculously grandiose sentinel base on Pall Mall. But the way we were visiting it was slightly different compared to others. I was now standing on top of this forty-story building with safety ropes tied around my waist, looking like an orphan dispelled from the Royal Club. 

It was a quiet Sunday. Hardly any pedestrians on the street. All the sentinels were either chilling at the Royal Club or busy enjoying themselves in the United Sentinel Clubhouse up in Cambridge. They were probably indulging in their perfectly heated steaks and kidney pies and appreciating the surrounding Neoclassical masterpieces while I stood on the dark rooftop, crouching my body, fighting my phobia of parachute jumping. The shadow of a chestnut tree obscured the portico of the building that I would break into. 

I saw Neil. 

I filtered out the irrelevant sensory input as I watched the guide walking up the flight of steps. The concierge was opening the heavy double doors for him, welcoming him into the carpeted lobby. They could not tell a real noble apart from an imposter — besides, Neil behaved like he owned the place. 

I heard the sound of doors closing, the creaking of food carts on the carpet, and Neil’s footsteps across the splendid yet dreary corridor. The first person to welcome him would be Cramer. It had been ten years since I left the place, but the voice of this Kensington sentinel hadn’t changed a bit. It felt as if I was looking at the gray-haired man standing erect behind that pine wood reception desk, in his ever so solemn posture.

“What matter brings you here, sir?” The deep voice of the old sentinel reached me like it was said next to my ear.

Before he spoke, Neil took a pregnant pause to cultivate the perfect suspense. I could almost see his suggestive wink toward the sentinel in my head. 

“A visit,” Neil finally said.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand, sir.”

“Mr. Pierce reserved a guide lap dance,” using his deliberately lowered intimate voice, he hummed a tune of calculated flippancy, “for his bachelor party. I hope this kind of harmless entertainment is not prohibited here, is it? And no need for everyone to find out, darling, I think you know that better than I do.”

Neil then considerately elaborated on how he knew many guides of the same trade and what a beautiful discount he could get Cramer — this prank almost made me burst out in laughter. We didn’t plan this during the rehearsals; it was purely him improvising.

Cramer must have held a death stare at him for a long time. When he finally spoke, his voice was as cold as the iron railings in winter. 

“Please follow me, sir.”

I cast a glance at my watch the moment Cramer’s keys jingled. The time I took to abseil had to coincide with the time it took for the elevator to reach the twenty-sixth floor. Only then could I escape Cramer in the monitors. 

As I began working on the air pump, Neil walked out of the elevator. He got out of the guard’s sight and approached the room that we were actually interested in — he would turn back once he reached Mr. Pierce’s door, but by that time, Cramer would already be in the elevator riding down, so he wouldn’t notice — lockpicking would take one and a half minutes, at most two, so I had to make room for three minutes. After three minutes, I would be pulled up to the forty-story building in the air. If things went as planned, by the time I was hanging upside down like a bat outside the window of that stranger’s room, Neil would have picked the lock and gone inside. He would open that window and help me into our target’s room. The window would be closed to how it was before, guards would patrol like they always did, and no one would be aware of two intruders at the base. 

Everything went even more smoothly than expected, except for some minor deviations. Neil took care of the lock even quicker than I had predicted. He had already been standing in the room for half a minute when I jumped down, which meant he got to see me acting like a gastritis patient in the air, stifled and neurotic. He didn’t come immediately to my rescue, as if watching me like that was paying him a bonus. I then almost tripped on the fancy Turkish rug — the decoration inside the base was as extravagantly useless as I remembered. Only then did Neil “attentively” help me get up. I unfastened the rope and rolled my eyes at him. 

“Now I know how much you enjoy parachuting.” This annoying guide stuck his tongue out. 

“Told you I broke an ankle during basic training,” I bickered. “Our target actually stayed here?”

“Sentinels who escape to the past need time to heal, the sentinel base is usually their preferred hideout. This is where analysts from Rosetta last located him.” Neil was radiating his empathy to the entire room; it was a sense of composure and solemnity, and it affected me. “After that, they lost him.”

Even though he was just reciting what I knew, hearing the facts from a guide had a calming effect. I gave him a look in the eye — _I search, you cover_ — and he immediately understood. He retreated to the corner of the room and hid in the shadow of a wall lamp while I observed and judged, using my knowledge and experience to analyze the space.

This was just an ordinary room of a sentinel, nothing new. The scent of cigars permeated everything in it. But this _was_ the room of an intelligence agent. You could tell at first sight that its owner had been through rigorous training, not leaving his visitors a single chance to catch any extra details. A chair, a bed, a wardrobe with a mirror, and that was all the furniture. Their colors lacked personality just as the wallpaper did. Functionality over aesthetics. It was impossible to judge the owner’s character from them. Being in such a feeble environment felt like attending someone’s funeral. _What would you even expect to find here?_

Neil’s presence anchored my emotions like the track to a train. I did my best to push my sensory force toward targeted places — _open those drawers, see if there are any sealed suppressants; observe the seam between walls and the wallpaper, pry for any concealed compartments; use enhanced vision to search within the trash can_. 

But I found nothing.

Half-discouraged, I walked back to the center of the room and gazed over everything around me. _Impossible._ No one could flee without a trace, especially a sentinel from the future. I wanted to pace back and forth on the floor to see if there were any secrets below the tiles — but I could not risk it because if I stepped on a tile that made sounds, the guards would immediately discover our existence. I pinched the furrow between my brows and relied on my auditory sense — _traffic sounds, irrelevant; the neighbor sending bachelor party invites through the phone, irrelevant; but_ — _wait, something was scratching behind the painting frame_. 

I immediately turned to the painting. But strangely, the guide next to it caught my attention instead. _When did Neil begin holding his breath? Why does he look so restless? Is it a coincidence that he just happened to be standing next to the only clue I found?_ A disturbing thought appeared in my brain: I recalled that he had been standing there ever since I got into the room. 

“We have to leave,” Neil said. If I had already displayed my distrust, he didn’t react to it. 

“Give me five minutes.”

“The guards are changing shifts. They will walk past here.”

I ignored him. I walked in front of the painting and stared at it for a couple of seconds. There was a dying trace of a sentinel’s scent gathered at a corner of the frame. I pulled out a small knife and cut the painting off the frame. 

A safe was embedded in the wall. It was a traditional one, but that didn’t mean easy to open. Those guards were coming, so I had to unlock it quickly. I held my breath and studied the fluorescent digits. 

Just when I was about to touch them, Neil abruptly reached out his hand and entered a combination. 

The safe popped open. A huge bird flew out of it and scratched my nose. With one hand blocking its offense, I grabbed what was in the safe with my other. 

The ferocious animal went around me and rushed toward Neil. Its wings flapped in the air extremely vigorously, like it was stirring up a hurricane. It was already too late when I turned around. I only managed to see the unexpected guest break through the window, leaving a sizable bloodstain on the glass. 

The guide I came with gulped for air but then held his breath. His irises shrank in a very strange way. His forehead covered in sweat as if someone was torturing him. 

Everything felt wrong: Neil, the bird, this room. But I didn’t have the time to reflect on the strangeness. 

I shot Neil a look, and he understood tacitly. He opened the door to the hallway. We slipped out of the room and dashed to the fire exit before those sentinels arrived. At the very second the fire exit glass door closed behind us, I saw a team of sentinels rush into where we had just left.

_Great, this is definitely my favorite way to spend a night: trapped on a stairway landing, waiting to be found by a bunch of folks with enhanced senses._

_Stay quiet._ I repeatedly warned the guide. _As long as you stay quiet, you will be fine._ I used my eyes to convey the message. However, he was not even in sync with me; our empathic connection had snapped. Something had been wrong with Neil since the instance the safe was opened. I couldn’t even make myself look at his face. He was shaking like a leaf. He looked thwarted and alone. My nose might have been scratched but he had bitten through the skin on his lip. He clenched his teeth to the point of grating, desperately restraining his impulse to gasp for air — _he makes a sound, and we are both finished_. I knew he knew that. But there was no way he could guarantee that no sound would escape him the next second.

It was pitch black. The acoustic panels and air filter would undermine the sensory ability of those sentinels, but that didn’t mean we were safe. I did switch on the white noise right before dashing out of that room, which should delay them for a while. 

Neil was getting worse. His consciousness entangled into a mess. And from its barrier where I could reach, everything was in complete chaos. If I couldn’t check on him through the connection, I had to rely on my eyes. 

The Neil I saw was desperately fighting against spasms, the kind that manifested itself through violent trembling and pain-induced iris contraction, and they overtook him in waves. 

We didn’t have much time. I had to do something. 

I caught a glimpse of a sentinel approaching in our direction while Neil’s movement told me that he was at his absolute limit. What happened next all occurred at the same second: Neil carefully sucked in a breath, the sentinel stopped and looked in our direction suspiciously. Without a second of hesitation, I dragged the guide into my arms, tightly covered his mouth with one hand, and ripped apart his collar with the other. 

We silently wrestled. He swiftly raised his leg and kicked my tibia. It hurt like a beast, but maybe I deserved it. I didn’t look into his eyes, nor did I explain my actions. For now, my top priority was to play the role of a scoundrel. 

I buried my head on Neil’s shoulder. With my lips, I shoved away the fabric near his neck, searching for that scar from memory. The instant I pressed my lips to it, his every resistance pulled to a halt. His lashes fluttered twice, then they lowered. The noise he made — a forbearing and husky whimper — beamed in the dark like the last flicker of a burned-out cigarette. 

Should I have rejoiced for having kept my hand on his mouth? I suddenly couldn’t concentrate on escaping anymore. That noise had directly stimulated my groin. The flame of desire burned all the way down my abdomen. I latched onto him, tracing that scar with my lips again and again — if I had allowed myself to indulge, I would have made use of my tongue; I would have sucked and nibbled it; I would have made this guide scream for me. But I controlled myself. My goal was only to appease his old wound, and Neil’s reaction showed that I had done that. The little elbow attacks he was using on me were also gone. Neil slowly leaned in, presenting me with his bare neck. He raised one hand to grab my arm. He gave me silent permission.

Resonance reestablished. The guide allowed me into his brain. The cable between us — that fragile empathic synchronization between sentinel and guide — had returned to its balance. 

The guards ran to the other side and that sentinel followed. 

We were finally safe.

In the second half of that night, I sat in my hotel room with the file from the safe in front of me. The file was in a kraft paper envelope, but I was not planning to open it yet. I had to give myself some time to sort out everything I had seen that night. 

Before deciding on the next steps, I sat down for a drink. For five years, I had never violated my rule of not drinking on the job. But that night was an exception. Although my instinct was telling me it was too late to bother with principles. 

I poured myself half a glass of liquor and sipped on it inattentively. The brown envelope was at my hand, yet I had no interest in what was within. I was no longer a young and naive sentinel. I knew better than to get involved in something I could not handle just for the sake of curiosity. I resented mysteries, especially riddles. My experience was telling me, once I open it, there would be no turning back: I would have to continue this mission.

Perhaps they assumed I would read this file no matter what, or perhaps they never planned to let me live. And Neil, what role was he playing in this mess?

As if to answer my question, a knock echoed on my door. Across the door panel, I smelled the scent of that guide — aftershave, a trace of soap aroma, then the scent of his skin itself. I could sense the safety belt fibers left behind on his palms and the heat remaining from pulley friction on his wrists. I recalled how he looked when he aimed the grapple gun at the building sixty feet away. That image was imprinted in my head. The buckle of safety rope had left a shallow indentation behind his neck, and I knew exactly where that crescent-shaped mark was. Everything about him had become an increasingly clearer map to me: the location of his scar, the color of his eyes whenever he dazed, as well as the calluses guns had left on his hand.

But I did not forget he was part of the reason why I was sinking into trouble.

There was another knock on the door. I raised a brow at my reflection on the glass coffee table — when would he ever give up?

“Quit that,” I shouted. “What’s the point? The lock can’t stop you.”

Neil came in and sat down before me. I saw him speaking with his eyes: _you have things to ask me_.

But he was wrong, I didn’t want to ask anything that night, not even one question. I just wanted to quietly finish my drink, yet he wouldn’t let me.

He kept staring at me until I had no choice but to look back.

“I warned you to not take this job.” He stated it like expounding a theory.

“That’s not important anymore,” I blurted, “tell me everything or I quit right here.”

I wasn’t bargaining, but Neil reacted like I was. He was humored by me, his eyes exuding a clever contemplation. 

“How much has Ives told you about me?”

“Not much,” I scorned, “which is too bad. He didn’t tell me you would be throbbing like a bunny if your old wound recurred.”

“The missing sentinel they want you to go after is the same sentinel who abandoned me. Look, now you know more than anyone else. Try to sleep for a while, we got an early flight to catch.”

I stayed reticent for a good while, trying to regain my cool. I didn’t want to rip open someone else’s old wounds, but it seemed like that was the only thing I was an expert in. I had searched everyone’s skull inside out: that sentinel’s, Neil’s, and mine. My next question was at the tip of my tongue but I was resisting myself. That was the first time I realized I could be very cruel for the sake of the job.

“You came here to tell me that?” I ended up yielding.

“No,” he pressed his lips together, suddenly becoming a little helpless, “I was thinking, could you let me sleep in your room? Just for one night.”

“You mean we’re gonna bang?” I said.

“No,” Neil actually took a few seconds to think, “although you did want to fuck me — back at the fire exit.”

“Shut up,” _how could I forget that he could read my emotions?_ “Not another word tonight. Drink your booze.”

He was trying his best to hide his exhaustion, yet his attitude had been indeed earnest. Despite him not mentioning a word about the scar, I could tell there was still pain huddled in his eyes. His trauma from the recrudescence had not entirely faded. He displayed a weary smile to me, letting his hair fall freely on his forehead. A sense of being at a loss imbued that smile, which for some reason, was hard for me to watch. 

I handed him a glass, and he poured for himself. I could still see remnants of the spasms in his wrists, but I didn’t lay that bare. _If a sentinel has ruined you to this state, then you shouldn’t go to him again_ — although this thought was right at the tip of my tongue, I ended up not voicing it out. 

The guide held his glass with both hands as he sipped the alcohol. Just as he was neurotically leaning toward the glass, I remembered from where I had seen similar spasms: on the battlefield, when the captured empaths gouged their scent glands out.

I decided to wait for him to finish the drink then forget about the questions in my heart. _Call Kat,_ I urged myself, _that is what you should be doing_. 

Max had learned a few more French words, and he recited them one by one to me through the phone. _Abre, le Soleil, océan,_ the sounds of these words replaced the missing sentinel nightmare.

When I came back, Neil had already fallen asleep on the couch. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Imagine Neil "throbbing like a bunny" in the protagonist's arms. I can't stop laughing LOL 
> 
> Thank you guys for all the kudos!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betaed by [@yan_zi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yan_zi/pseuds/yan_zi)

“You two have it figured out, right?” That sentinel said, “You’re elites from the London Base. The Prime Sentinel called me saying ‘Assist them, Welten!’, so here I am. Okay, so what do you think of this strange incident?”

I exchanged a look with Neil. It had been less than ten minutes since our arrival, but the errand boy from the local sentinel base — the young man named Welten — had already made us feel at home with his extraordinary loquacity. 

Amsterdam had not yet awakened. The canal’s quietude didn’t break his mood of chatting with us. He was a sentinel with exuberant curiosity, and maybe also a little too exuberant of a tobacco addiction. I knew by the time we left this place, he would become a part of my memory of Amsterdam, a dabble of orange twinkling amid London’s hazy mist. Even the way he asked questions had the same characteristics as the bridge arches we passed by, practical, firm, and a little imaginative.  _ Did you come here to take away the cadaver, sir? Have you seen similar wounds in London, sir? Do you think she wanted to grab onto something when she collapsed?  _ While Neil muddled through his questions with polite nods and smiles, I fixed my gaze on the sky above. It would have taken two hours to get here, but luckily we got a motorboat ride from the police. After half an hour of darkness accompanied by motor sounds, a gentle light glowed across the horizon. We had arrived. 

That sentinel leaped to the bank and extended his hand to the guide I came with. I barely managed to keep the grin off my face as I got off the boat myself. He was only twenty-six, no wonder he was so eager to please the guide. However, since his target was Neil, I was afraid that he had chosen the wrong interest. 

I stood on the land enjoying the show and perceived Neil sending me his mild contempt.

“Thank you very much,” Neil said to the sentinel, “but didn’t you already help me a moment ago, Erik? You also held my hand. I can help myself this time.”

The sentinel first stared at him in bewilderment, then like a flashlight skimming through a riverway, the guide’s empathic projection coaxed him. He fell into a trance as the implanted image of him holding Neil’s hand while helping him out of the boat took effect.  The cheerful sentinel stepped aside, and I raised my eyebrows at the guide. I asked, "Since when did Welten become Erik?" But Neil deliberately ignored me. 

Welten led the way through the narrow shipyard plank. Within the blink of an eye, we had left the winding canals behind us. 

The Amsterdamian sentinel held his wrist in the air, lighting up the space before us. A woman’s body was lying on the semicircular area illuminated by the flashlight. One end of her saree still hung over her shoulder, but the other end had already become one with the dark water. The crimson fabric meandered under the light like a trail of blood. No wonder the detective was shaking his head. He looked at us as if waiting to hear me or Neil suck back a breath and then comment on the corpse. But neither of us said anything.

“If you would like to see it more closely,” the attentive Welten said, “we can move the body up to the bank.”

“No,” I spoke to him for the first time. “No need for that.”

“Oh I forgot, you have a guide with you. Has your guide told you? About what she experienced before death?”

Seemed like his position as a detective had won over his curiosity as a sentinel. His questions were finally suitable for his duty. He sounded like he had to land a plane on water. 

“My guide” kneeled one knee to the ground, placing his hand on the shoulder of the corpse. His slender hands brushed against the golden embroidery as if he was communicating with the dead. Any sentinel watching this would not have held back his defiance, even though I knew Welten didn’t mean it, he was simply seeking the truth. The buff Amsterdamian sentinel was not very sensitive to change in emotions; therefore, he didn’t catch the subtle shift of mood. He didn’t detect the tension between Neil and me upon seeing the corpse. He couldn’t wait to hear my analysis while I was thinking about his reckless word choice, “your guide”.

“She died in an instant,” I answered, “fast, and clean, killed with one shot. If I were you, I wouldn’t worry too much.”

Welten stared at me dumbfoundedly. Maybe my words were too inconsiderate, but they did not surprise my guide one bit. 

Neil shuddered and frowned at the moment I said “fast”, or maybe that was only my illusion. The rippling reflections on the water blurred all our faces. I shifted my gaze from the end of the plank to the road beneath our feet. After getting off the tourist boat, she had to walk across this narrow plank before reaching the houseboat. Whoever killed her must have eyed her since she was on the tourist boat. 

My reticence had finally made the young man restless. He looked at me, then looked back at the guide squatting next to the corpse. “Do you not want to get a closer look?” he asked.

“‘My guide’ will take care of that,” I borrowed his word choice and tried to appear as friendly as possible, “You must have other things to show me, right, Erik? Not just a dead body near the canal.”

He mumbled a few Dutch words, probably didn’t want to ask me in English how I knew that.

“Who did you say the corpse is, sir?”

“I didn’t say it,” I patiently managed his test, “but her name was Priya. She was a high-level guide. She was the wife of Sanjay Singh, the Indian arm trafficker. She had her own network at MI6. One of her old friends is your Chief Inspector General, Prime Sentinel, Mr. Van der Sar. I can also tell you my name, but then you wouldn’t be able to go home for dinner.”

Neil had already returned from the corpse. As that petrified sentinel gawked at me, Neil’s helpless mockery breezed to me like the river mist. And I welcomed it with joy. Maybe the true reason behind intimidating that sentinel was to stimulate Neil’s reaction. From when he knocked on my door the night before to landing at the Amsterdam airport, I had seen no trace of clear emotion on his face. But now, he had come in between Welten and me, seamlessly blocking the sentinel’s questions, and with his considerate smile, he made him believe what I said was merely a joke. He was an expert at it: Welten’s dropped jaw finally returned to its place.

“British humor,” Neil winked at him, “he wasn’t serious.”

“Right, I wasn’t,” I crossed my arms and echoed, “so where is the other thing you wanted us to see?”

“Actually, if you could come this way—” Welten’s flashlight lowered at a twenty-five degree angle, illuminating the wooden piling supporting the plank under our feet. There was an irregular hole on a wooden post twenty-five yards away from the corpse. Welten gave the flashlight a gentle wave to direct our attention to it, and the almost circular hole became clear in our view. Welten turned off his flashlight and instead turned on the sentinel sensory deflector as if he just now remembered I was also a sentinel and required no additional lighting to see. 

Neil and I heard him switch on the deflector, and the squeaking circuit sounds flicked in the air then flattened to a straight line. Welten nodded with satisfaction, his fingers spinning the deflector knobs to adjust the output while he set out a manner of a professional crime investigator, excitedly commenting on the second exhibit. 

“I recommend you turn on your deflectors,” Welten said. “Now is not the time to be a cowboy. What you are going to see does not follow physics or your training at the sentinel camps.”

“Thank you,” said Neil. “Were you the one who discovered it?”

Completely unaware that Neil had shifted his focus, the sentinel gasped in a breath of air. 

“No,” he said, “oh God, no. I would seriously feel sorry for him, I mean the one who discovered this. Our reasoning is the bullet hit her, went through her forehead, then got in here. But we’ve never seen any bullet holes like this, ballistics can’t explain this. It looks like it was...” he almost felt embarrassed by what he said next, “...left beforehand.”

Neither of us laughed at him. As he said that, we exchanged a look again. 

“I thought this kind of thing normally takes place in Berlin, or Machu Picchu,” Welten let out a dazzled sigh, “but Amsterdam? Just look around us, who would have chosen to assassinate here? If you haven’t noticed, we don’t get many international murder cases here. And her spirit guide, when we found her, her body held no spiritual substance, like her spirit guide had been dug out by someone beforehand.”

Maybe because of our grave expressions, he gingerly added, “Quite creepy, isn’t it?”

I gave Neil a look, and he tacitly nodded. I suddenly walked backward and unbuttoned my blazer. Welten was stunned as I directly walked next to the water, but Neil placed a hand on his shoulder. Like a host seeing his guest off, Neil cordially shook his hand. His elegant yet meaningless politesse had the sentinel enchanted. Welten did not even notice me diving into the water.

I swam to the bullet hole and ducked under the plank to study its edge. I then went under the water again to see if I could find the bullet that had killed Priya. The water was quiet and calm, but its coldness still swiftly permeated my limbs. By the time I came up gulping for air, Neil was waving at a receding motorboat. The respectable Detective Welten had gone aboard the motorboat, which gradually vanished into the darkness before dawn. 

I was bouncing up and down, wrapping my arms around myself, trying to regain some warmth. The dark sky finally faded as the first ray of sun illuminated Amsterdam. However, all I could think about was a cup of hot coffee and a place to sit down for breakfast.

“I believe we know what had happened to her spirit guide,” Neil took back the share of attention he had spared that sentinel and gazed at me, “It wasn't dug out. It was locked in a safe, and it had a great interest in your nose. By the way, how is your nose now?”

“Couldn’t be better, thanks,” I answered grumpily. The damn canal water had stuffed my nose. Neil definitely asked because he knew that. I thought about what he said, “You can only kill a guide’s spirit guide after you get rid of the guide.”

“If you came here from the future, then no. He was trained in inversion just like us. He could first trap Priya’s spirit guide, then lure her here to kill.”

“So this is Rosetta’s secret?” I wasn’t too interested. “Hiring sentinels for inverted assassination?”

“Have you read the file?”

After receiving my negative answer, Neil spoke in an unusually bright voice, “Let’s go. You should give the file a read now. Let’s go find a place for breakfast, and dry you off. A soaking wet sentinel is not so attractive.”

I rambled to him that he underestimated my attractiveness in the eyes of guides. Nevertheless, the Amsterdam sky had become sunny, and Neil’s mood brightened like the dawning sky. Neither of us mentioned the corpse as if we had established an agreement to not speak of the terror on that murdered woman's face.  I formed a new theory: Neil would always pull me up whenever I began to feel down. 

After breakfast and coffee, I made myself as dry as a newborn babe wrapped in towels, but without baby powder of course. As Neil sat across from me, I read that file like reading through a club membership application — Kat once told me that I read all official documents that fast. I finished it, put it back in the envelope, coiled the sealing string back in place, and leaned back in my chair.

There were many guides around me, but none of them were as high key as the one sitting across from me. He was stirring his drink with a straw. He held the straw between his teeth, bit it, released it, then softly bit again, as if playing a game. When he sipped that amber liquid, his eyes would peer up, taking note of everything happening around him. I carelessly spread my legs out and made a funny face at him.

“A bunch of empty talks,” I said, “Typical stuff. They swore with their lives to keep a plan named Tenet a secret. Didn’t say what Tenet is though.”

“Ten people signed the agreement, and one of them is now dead.”

“You mean, he slipped back to the past just to cross off every name on this agreement? That’s too conceitful.”

“Or in other words, dangerous,” Neil corrected me, “Don’t forget that they still haven’t found him until now, but he knows the whereabouts of each one of them, which puts him in the lead. Just the two of us can’t prevent ten murders.”

“Nine,” I gently tilted my head, “Priya is already dead. We can’t prevent anything. It’s not our job.”

“Nine names, Crosby is in there too. But he didn’t tell you. Does that not make you feel strange?”

I laughed. “He was scared to die, so he hired me. Is this what you wanted to say? That wouldn’t be the Michael Crosby I know. If they fail to find this sentinel, you and I would be the only ones who had come in contact with the targeted individuals and had them linked. When the time is right, the London Sentinel Base could easily make me the scapegoat, or you, or both of us. And that,” I continued sullenly, “sounds more like the Crosby I know. To find these names—”

“—is to find that sentinel,” Neil promptly picked up where I left off, “You haven’t mentioned the most important issue.”

“You know me even better now?” I sipped some coffee, then unhurriedly said, “The name that got blacked out. Who is that?”

“That’s what our target doesn’t want us to know.”

“You seem to know him well,” I deliberately beamed a smile. “Your wound, is that also his doing?”

“No, I did that to myself. I can tell you the story another day. But it’s not a story that should be told at a place like this.”

“Then what kind of stories should be told here?”

Neil knitted his brows, the episode from the morning had made his voice more nasally. There was a subtle change in his voice when the waiter brought me a cup of coffee. He was still looking up at me, his eyes still innocent, but he twiddled the straw with his index finger and thumb, making a rather intimate fondle. 

“Do you like Amsterdam?” he said, “You haven’t said your thoughts on this city.”

“What?” I was confused by his subtle twist of tone, which usually was a guide’s expertise. Neil behaved like he was acting out a certain character. 

“I’m thinking we could stay here for one more day. Rent a houseboat. Visit the red light district.” Neil looked like he was pouring out his heart to me, “I really should thank you—for last night. I haven’t shown you all the things a Rosetta guide could do yet.” My eyes must have been filled with confusion. He ran an icy finger down my neck, lowering his voice as he pulled me close. “Did you retrieve the bullet that killed Priya? If yes, smile at me. Don’t turn your head, we’re being followed.”

I glanced at the hand he grabbed me with, then stared into his eyes with raised eyebrows. Under the table, Neil had one leg propped; his oxford shoe tilted up — causing his linen pants to expose a sight of his ankle — and stroked against my calf. 

I twitched my lips and forced out a smile.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betaed by [@yan_zi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yan_zi/pseuds/yan_zi) <3

Everything that had to do with this job seemed to be the opposite of what was standard, and I thought I had already gotten used to it. 

I followed Neil there like a sentinel conquered by pheromones. In the eyes of those spying on me, I was restless and senseless, a fool indulging himself with a Rosetta guide at the front porch, not even remembering where he was. As for that guide — Neil was trapped between my arms and the door, enduring my aggressive kisses and unrestrained touch. He even parted his legs to let me squeeze in between them. I glued myself to this guide for a couple more minutes before bumping open the door with his arms around my neck. 

We were still fervently kissing when the door opened, like the only thing we cared about was each other’s hormones. The scene was not completely fake, we did have our arms around each other, and we did fall onto the bed. Yet as soon as my back touched the bed and Neil’s shield domed over the houseboat, I put away the delirious semblance. I still presented passionate kisses, but my logic had returned to place. Between Neil’s arms, in the space where only we could see — he had his arms around my head like someone in love — we looked at each other face to face, both surprised and calmed by the other’s composure.

I thought I wasn’t in a place to complain about Neil's plan, I did kind of gain from it after all. There was no reason for a sentinel to be nitpicky after taking pleasure in such beauty. But I still had many questions in my brain. _Who was following us? Why did someone always know our move ahead of time?_ Other than Crosby (he contacted the local base for us), no one knew we were coming to Amsterdam.

“Before I continue this Meine Liebste show,” I asked Neil, “don’t you think you owe me an explanation?”

“They are from Rosetta.” After quite a contemplation, “my” guide finally said, “the one they’re after is me.”

“Finally,” I scornfully emphasized that word, “this is the first truth you’ve spoken since we set off. Why are they after you?”

Just as Neil was about to answer, I faintly shook my head at him. I pulled him down as I swiftly turned over, exchanging our positions and pinning him under me. I pressed my hips against his crotch and rubbed against him, the diffusion of guide pheromones in the air immediately intensified. He slightly separated his lips to pant, a sense of antipathy tangled along with his bewilderment. He was hard. I clenched my teeth and let my sweat drop. 

If the guide still had a little conscience in him, he would notice that I had thoroughly opened my mind to him. We held our gaze again, watching each other’s sanity on the brink of collapsing. 

Neil slowly closed his eyes. He lifted his legs and hooked them around my waist. His body may have been conniving me to do whatever I wanted, but before learning the truth behind everything, I would only take what I needed. 

_Don’t talk_ , I told him through our linked consciousness, _they are searching here._

We held that position for a while. Neil embraced my shoulders closely, as if he was nuzzling my hair, and I planted myself between his legs, arms cuddling his neck. If only I knew what they were searching for or if only I could come up with a thorough escape plan. However, the only one who knew all the answers was Neil. And would he tell me? I heard my own panting breaths. 

_All clear._ It was just a sentinel passing by. We listened as he walked across the plank humming a song, throwing up his key in the air then catching it. How strange it was that I had already forgotten other people — the empaths who did not belong to any bases — could live ordinary normal lives.

Neil strengthened his shield while I leaned over his ear. 

“Now you can tell me,” I whispered. 

“Rosetta didn’t send me,” said Neil, “I came myself, more precisely, I ran away.”

“I thought you were one of Rosetta’s.”

“I was, but I changed sides halfway,” he looked me in the eyes, “it was all illegal — coming to the past, helping you, getting involved in this job. But Crosby doesn’t know. He thought we were meeting for the first time.”

I drew back the corners of my lips and grinned at him. I ran my fingers through his hair, displaying a seemingly intimate move but it was actually just to pull him closer. Once I knotted my fist in his hair, I pulled his head back, making him frown with pain. Neil’s body was arching toward me, his toes curled against the sheet. I bent down to kiss his neck, communicating my rebuke by nibbling his skin, “And we weren’t?”

“We were supposed to be,” Neil fidgeted shiveringly under me, attempting to get away from my touch, “Rosetta only assigned me to you once — at Kiev, that opera house siege — but you didn’t see my face that time, you didn’t know who I was. You shouldn’t have known my name when Crosby introduced me to you. Crosby thought he was introducing to you a newly recruited guide.”

I gradually understood what was going on, “The real Neil —”

“He was never involved. It was me who saved you at Kiev; it was me who waited at the lighthouse for you and took the risk of telling you my name; it was me who slept with you at the safehouse;” Neil murmured, “it was also me who took his place as your guide for this job. The Neil from this current timeline is still training at Rosetta, he has never returned to the past, and he has never met you.” 

I furrowed my brows. I had long figured out that the truth was not always what you liked. 

“You will meet him,” as if he had read my thoughts, Neil whispered, “and he will be the type of guide you like. Don’t worry, he has not been ruined. There are no scary scars on his neck. He is still a blank slate. It was me who preempted. I must meet you before he does because I don’t have any time left.”

“To stop that sentinel?”

“To help you,” Neil said, “this job is far more dangerous than you think — that’s all I can tell you.”

The one claiming to help me was him. But the one who kept me from the truth all along was also him. I could not figure out how much truth was in his confession. I could only rely on intuition.

“You said you ran away, from where?”

“Did Crosby tell you about that sentinel’s guide?”

_The last time anyone spotted him was in Istanbul, and he disappeared from then on —_ Crosby’s words appeared in my brain. The more I recalled, the calmer I became. After linking all the clues together, I was actually not surprised anymore. I was shocked by Neil's bravery: If this was all true, then that sentinel was not the only one fleeing for his life.

“You’re that guide.” It looked like I had to see the guide in my arms in a new light. “So, they think you know his whereabouts? Seems like I’ve been using my sympathy at the wrong place. I thought you got laid once then he abandoned you. This whole abandonment thing was also a show? Did he do that to save you, or to hand you over?”

My words were harsh, but Neil didn’t fall for it. Disparagement — interrogation trick taught in the CIA — did not work on him.

“That has nothing to do with your job,” he answered rationally, “it’s a business between me and him. You don’t need to know extra details.”

“Okay, one last thing,” I intently stared into his eyes, “you really know where he is? At least this should be my business.”

“I don’t, but no one would believe me,” Neil said, “one more thing: from Rosetta’s point of view, I helped you get that file and I told you the hideout of my sentinel. Your identity has already been exposed. Now you are also their target.”

_My sentinel,_ I repeated in my head. _That guy abandoned him, made him a prey that’s hunted across the world. He might also be the true culprit behind that scar. But he is still calling him “my sentinel”._

“How lovely,” I mocked, “a guide who could get me killed. You must have a plan to get out of here, right?”

“The plan is once the night hits, we go on our separate ways. I will be the decoy, and you leave. What is the next name on the file?”

“Sator.”

“The Russian arms trafficker?” Neil said, “Even better. I’ll see you in London.”

“So this is ‘all the things a Rosetta could do’? If your plan was for us to separate here, then there was no point in putting on such a show. Openly flirting with me at the restaurant, bringing me to a houseboat, making them believe that I’m sleeping with you. Why?”

“The more they believe you know, the less likely they’ll kill you off soon.”

“So you made them believe that I’m sleeping with you?” I knew I was being repetitive, but it wouldn’t hurt to make sure. “It doesn’t bring you any good, why are you doing it? The more Rosetta thinks I’m involved with you, the less they would trust you.”

“Leave that for me to worry about, ” Neil said, “remember, that’s just one possibility. Whether you can survive after leaving here is still in your own hands. No matter what happens after we separate tonight, I only ask you one thing: don’t look back.”

I laughed. I never would have thought that I would play Orpheus tonight. “I think you have underestimated how hard my heart is. ”

“No, I have not.” Neil guilefully smiled, “Until now, you haven’t attempted to mark and claim me, which serves as the perfect evidence.”

I reluctantly forced out a smile. I had used up my compassion for the day. Otherwise, I very well could have pointed out what Neil just said wasn’t true. It was not that I wasn’t willing to mark him or I didn’t think about it, I just did not want to get myself tangled up in another person’s past. In the end, the job was still my priority. 

“What kind of sentinel trained you to be like this?” I expressed my skepticism, “Always thinking for the sake of the job, never letting emotions overthrow logic — this is so abnormal. Everyone has the right to be vulnerable.”

“Actually,” with almost an attitude of a bystander, Neil modestly responded to my concern, “he’s a little like you.”

“No, he is not like me,” I totally despised his deduction. “Nothing would make me sacrifice my guide.”

Neil pulled me closer, making me look into his eyes. 

In his eyes, I saw that desolate lighthouse, the place where we first met. At that time, I did not know I would be involved with this guide in any way. The illusory scene from my memory began to materialize as he touched my fingers and breathed into my mental force. I saw the skyline lying low across the horizon; I heard the languid whistles; I felt the muted rain misting my skin, and I also saw the lonesome figure standing at the destination of my voyage. 

“I thought sentinels don’t make promises,” I heard him say, “but if sentinels could be killed by their promises, you would definitely be the first one.”

I humphed. He was certainly skilled in making fun of me. “Alright, you won,” I couldn’t help but concede, “but we still have a couple of hours before the night, what would you suggest we do, Eurydice? I’m starting to think this Holland trip has started off on the wrong foot.” 

“But we’re still on the right track—” Neil leaned in to whisper by my ear, “—I’m afraid that you actually need to fuck me this time.”

This was the opposite of a sudden impulse; Neil’s eyes clearly told me that it was strategic thinking. _When you want others to believe you are involved with a guide, the easiest way is to actually make it happen. Different from what people usually think, the most intricate lie is often the closest to the truth._ Of course, Neil wasn’t in bonding heat, and I wasn’t really going to mark him, but the process didn’t matter. What mattered was: after we leave, when the ones spying on us, the intruders, search in this room, when they evaluate the messy bedsheets and analyze the pheromones we left behind, they would be convinced that it indeed happened. 

A sense of sorrow stirred in my heart. Perhaps everything I ever wanted in life had been given to me with the same questionable genuineness. I had worked in the field for so long that I already lost my anger toward it. I had long lost the ability to distinguish between authenticity and playacting. Was it the same for Neil? _The most intricate lie is often the closest to the truth —_ at this moment, this thought overlapped with the face before me. _It’s time to stop_ , I told myself, this kind of emotion was purely the prelude to the blues, _don’t take another step because one wrong step would lead me to the depth of the abyss._

As if being roused from a dream, I crashed right into the gaze of the guide. The mysteries in his eyes enfolded me like the unceasing ocean haze; one could escape, but could never completely break free. 

So I pinned his wrists above his head and bit down on his neck as my reply.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you [@yan_zi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yan_zi/pseuds/yan_zi) for betaing!

Six hours ago, I was cuddling a guide in bed with caviar and champagne in our room. Every sentinel in the world would have been jealous of me. But now, I was stumbling to the ground with my back against the wall, my sweat dripping down the gun in my hand. 

I was surrounded by darkness, yet behind me, the canal was blood red. An illumination shell lit up half of the sky, and our “visitors” tonight were standing under its flare. I couldn’t see their faces, but judging from the movement of light rays on the ground, I could tell they were now standing by the door. There was only a wall between us, and the wall, as well as the couch next to it, had already been pierced by their bullets. I recognized the bullet holes: they were left by the same kind as the one that killed Priya. 

I was panting for air. I knocked the back of my head against the wall, trying to think of a way to break through their encirclement. My sensory abilities could ascertain everything around me — sixteen sentinels, their mental force field ringed this houseboat. As I crept forward like a caged beast, even more people fast roped down the helicopters. Isabelle, the tourist house that had its exterior modeled like an orange powerboat, was on the edge of collapsing. Smoke and dust surged up by the explosion had transformed Amsterdam into Leipzig. 

The sound of explosions still drummed in my ears, as if someone was trying to crack open my skull with a screwdriver. My deflector was fuming smoke, so I pulled it off my neck. Neil was still covering for me, but his response had become very weak. 

The only strategy was to get out, and it had to be soon. Leaving by water was the only way to avoid these Rosetta empaths. I drew out a precise route in my brain. However, what was stopping me from leaving wasn’t any of these. What made me decide to stay behind was the safety of Neil. 

There was a round bullet hole next to the vinyl player, and I couldn’t help but stare at it. A stream of air appeared within it, then the air around it started to contract, vibrate, then undulate. I took in a deep breath and peeked out. The moment I stuck my head out behind the wall, a bullet brushed past my ear and went back to that hole near the vinyl player. The bullet and the hole occluded like two connecting gears, then the hole disappeared. 

From that brief peek, I got a clear view of intruders. They stood with their backs to the light, wearing protective suits and masks, I couldn’t see their faces. This was certainly the style of Rosetta. I could only pray that Neil had not fallen into their hands. 

Sounds of rotor blades slightly impaired my auditory sense. Their guides were doing a spectacular job of shielding, I couldn’t hear anything behind their shield. They were headed by a man, whose shadow moved on the floor. 

“I could let you live, Ellis,” he said behind me, “as long as you tell us where the agreement is.”

Through his mask, the voice of this stranger sounded like the buzz of a white noise machine. I could not tell if he was a sentinel or a guide. The protective suit had his sensory output turned down, but at the same time it allowed him to know all my output. _So unfair_ , I shrugged, laughing at myself for being bothered by such useless things at this moment. 

I was worried about Neil. I had been unable to locate him ever since we separated and he left this room. _The agreement, that damn agreement again, they know Neil doesn’t have it._

“What agreement?” I yelled back, “You wanna go register with me at Aberdeen? Have you even asked my guide? ”

“Cowboy shit,” his voice was full of contempt, “you must think you’re smart to have gone separate ways from your guide.”

I was a sitting duck to him. I had played similar games with my targets before. Normally when the other side withholds key information, you must not let them die before you make them talk. So you exhaust them with fatigue and fear, then you gradually crumble them apart. The thought of me going through the same was not pleasant. This guy must have researched me. He knew my alias during missions, he mocked “cowboy shit”. But it was also possible that they had me analyzed ahead of time at Rosetta. To them, I was just a few pieces of paper and a couple of fake names. However, why would he mention my guide? I knitted my brows, trying to locate Neil again, yet there was nothing. 

“At least I have a guide!” I shouted back with a relaxed and cheerful tone, “you gotta have a guide to play hard to get, you know?”

 _Did it work?_ Or maybe that guy was just tired of bickering with me. I held my breath and cautiously tightened my grip on the gun. I heard him pacing behind me. His military boots heavily stepped on the floor, crushing rusty metal bits, sand on the ground, and broken pieces of glass. That was also his psychological warfare. His footsteps were unruffled, forming a clear juxtaposition with my increasingly unsteady breaths. I heard the squeezing sounds of his protective suit as he moved. His exhales went through his mask, producing waves of visible white fog. _Was he laughing? Or was that just a snort?_ I immediately took the opportunity to reload bullets, but he didn’t seem to care at all. 

_He has an invincible bargaining chip, but what is it?_ I asked myself, but I knew that was futile: without a guide, I could by no means detect his emotion. 

“The agreement, Ellis,” there was no change of emotions in his monotone voice, “I am asking you one last time: where is it?”

“Look, this is where you’ve stepped with the wrong foot,” I replied, “if you’re so desperate, why not take me out for dinner? You want me to do a lap dance without treating me to dinner, that’s not the way to do it. I don’t like it.”

He stopped moving. I carefully stared at the outline of his shadow on the floor. 

_What is he waiting for?_

I was not that stupid to believe my taunts had worked. Sneaky footsteps began to shift around the houseboat, very light but not unnoticeable. _Seems like their leader has signaled for them to change formation, but for what reason?_

I had a premonition. I slightly turned to the side. All of a sudden, there was a sound of something being dragged on the floor. That sound went through the doorway — the door frame was already destroyed — and continued until reaching that familiar spot behind me. It sounded like the thing they dragged in was dropped to the ground. I heard a period of scuffling, then a muffled punch. Someone let out a quiet groan, then everything returned to silence.

I gritted my teeth, forcing myself to swallow back the dismay. That groan — yes, I recognized it — was like a burning slap on my face. What they had dragged in was not a thing, but a person. This person was in my arms only six hours ago, but now his blood was mingling with pheromones, dripping to the floor. 

I dug my nails into my palms, not letting myself yield to emotions. I didn’t make a sound. I only breathed out more heavily. That commander person began to pace again. 

“I believe you know this guide,” that voice said, “Neil, say hello.”

The faint prayer in my heart was quickly buried by the frail sound of someone gasping. The sound was tearing my stomach into pieces. I hopelessly shut my eyes. If only I could somehow switch off my enhanced senses because they were like a curse at that moment. 

I could see Neil very clearly: the tears on his knees meant they had him dragged on the ground the entire way; the bruises on his wrists and face meant they already had him beat up; there was barely any sign of his mental force transmitting back, they very likely had his shield pierced, but the worst thing of all was he was still conscious. He was perfectly sober, which meant this night could become extremely long. 

I did not dare to move a bit as if the one about to be tortured was actually me. I heard his scream before I was even mentally prepared. That sound drilled into my temple like a sharp awl, and I quivered. It was an extremely low-pitched cry like it was levered out of a clenched jaw. Neil must have tried his hardest to not make any sounds, but in the end, his body’s instinct had defeated his will, which proved what an excruciating pain it was. I blinked out drops of sweat on my lashes. I lowered my head and realized that I had dug my nails in so hard that my palms were bleeding. 

“Five more minutes,” that cold voice echoed once again, “after five minutes, it won’t be stabbing a dagger to his scent gland again — I will shoot at his scar, and that will hurt like hell. He won’t die right away. He’ll still be somewhat conscious. Even if you drag him to the nearest hospital, the procedure would take all night. The scar — you know about it, right?”

That voice almost sounded gentle when it pronounced the word “scar”. It felt intimately cruel. I did not doubt that he could do it. He had already proven to me that he was not afraid to stain his hands with blood. 

I was soaked in sweat from head to toe. A strange tickle ran down my face. I reached up and wiped away the wetness on my face. If I dropped a tear, I didn’t know it. It wasn’t my first time having a guide taken hostage during missions, but I had always been able to efficiently resolve it in the past, unlike how panicked I was now. 

_Think_ , I urged myself, _just think!_

I then suddenly realized maybe Neil had already predicted that it would turn out like this. He knew his chance of escaping would be close to zero?

 _No matter what happens, don’t look back._ I remembered how he looked as he said these words.

An idea popped into my head. The chance of succeeding was slight, but I had to try. I hardened my heart and let down my shivering eyelids, telling myself to ignore the request that Neil was projecting to the depth of my mind. That weak ray of light was telling me to go and leave him behind.

“Three minutes,” the stranger indifferently counted down, “you don’t have a lot of time left, Ellis.”

“I know who you are now,” I threw out the psychological bomb, “you are the missing sentinel who I’m after. Am I right? You are the one who bonded with him then left him behind. Why did you kill Priya to lure us to Amsterdam?”

“You got the order wrong.” His disdainful tone was not even affected slightly, “Priya was killed because of you. If you didn’t take this job, the names on the agreement wouldn’t have been leaked; if you didn’t come to Amsterdam, she wouldn't have died — two minutes left.”

My heart was beating so violently that I thought it was going to burst out of my chest. 

_He knows everything. He is playing with me. Neil_ — I thought in agony — _what kind of a sentinel did you choose!?_

The helicopter’s searchlight swayed across the wall before me. Suddenly the entire room seemed like a nightmare. I stared at my watch. Never once had I hoped these numbers to be fake like I was hoping now. A wave of chaos fluctuated through my mind; from our empathic connection, I sensed Neil’s heart throbbing. My entire body grew tense. _They dragged him forward again. What are they planning to do to him?_

“Looks like you need a little encouragement.” It felt like that calm voice had gone through a couple layers of barriers before reaching my head. 

The next second, I heard Neil groaning: someone was twisting that knife in his wound.

 _God!_ — I felt the veins on my forehead pulsate, I could no longer stay put.

“Okay, enough!” I growled, “Stop it!”

The guy in lead must have made another signal because they were no longer pinning Neil’s shoulders down. I put down the gun, raised both hands in the surrendering posture, and walked out. 

But that did not change the situation. I was greeted by a masked face. I saw Neil. He was kneeling on the ground, his blood bleeding through his shirt. The one who had been negotiating with me had his gun pointed at Neil’s scar. 

I took another step forward, and he switched the safety off. Perhaps that was just an act, but the crisp click felt like a slice on my heart. I almost couldn’t make myself look at the kneeling captive: Neil’s head was hanging down, his blond hair was stained with blood and dirt. The knife that had gouged him open was right beside him. It was just a regular military dagger, but the one who used it certainly knew how to cause the most pain with it. 

“One minute,” said the man who stood behind Neil, “have you ever seen a guide shot in the scent gland? Well, you’ll see it very soon.”

I grinned, staring at that guy’s face. “I slept with your guide, idiot,” I said, “he doesn’t even have a gland.”

Although he didn’t show any emotional reaction, I could still tell that my words had hurt him. Right after I said it, his muscles grew stiff. His face turned toward me, lifting his chin up like he was looking at a bug. His hands clenched into fists — _right, have a taste of that_ , I thought sinisterly. Maybe I wasn’t the only one on the edge after all. 

“You have ten seconds left.” That man stated rather apathetically.

By then, I could confirm two things about him: he was definitely a sentinel, and regardless of how strong he was, he still was an opponent who could be fooled. As these thoughts ran across my head, Neil woke up. He fell into a brief trance, looking up at me. I sighed in my heart. Well, what he was about to see was certainly not my most glorious moment. Blood was dripping down the side of his neck, where I had kissed just a few hours ago — the thought of that was deranging me. I tried my best to concentrate on the face of that sentinel while his monotone voice was counting down: “six, five, four, three, two—”

“Don’t shoot! The agreement — it’s in my car! The one I rented from the airport, the black BMW, it’s in the drawer!”

These guys exchanged a glance. But the man — I felt he was looking at me. His eyes fixed on my face as if judging the validity of my words. 

He humphed, gave a slight adjustment to the angle of his gun, and pulled the trigger.

“— No!” I roared.

The bullet did not hit Neil’s gland directly, but it did graze past his wound. Another bullet hole that had appeared ahead of time occluded behind me. Neil was struggling to even kneel, but that man did not allow him to collapse. He clutched Neil’s neck and raised the gun once again.

“I want the truth.”

“I spoke the truth!” I lost my cool and charged at him, but his sentinels blocked me. I could not touch him at all. “The agreement is in the car! You can send someone — let him go! He was once _your_ guide, you bastard!”

As I yelled, a fist landed on my temple. Pain exploded at the back of my head and darkness flooded my vision. I fell forward. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the helicopter let down a rope ladder. Their footsteps sounded like they were approaching and receding at the same time. I could not tell anymore. 

I groggily reached out to touch the floor, then I realized something. I frantically crawled forward as fast as I could to where Neil was. 

The noise of the helicopter's blades above me faded. I carefully held the guide up from the ground and gently patted his face. 

Neil smiled. His eyes were spacing out, overflowing with despair like he just saw the end to everything. 

“You looked back,” he said.

“I lied. Standard operating procedure,” I shrugged, “that damn agreement is still on me. Let’s go. Let’s get out of here.”

Neil was asleep for the majority of the plane ride. But I couldn’t. When I closed my eyes, the night we spent in the houseboat kept playing in my head. 

It was actually our second time, but Neil behaved more nervously than he did during our first. Might be due to the fact that we had a “live audience”. His every sigh and every moan would be heard by the eavesdroppers, and he was perfectly aware of that. So no matter how adeptly he reciprocated my moves, that awareness still remained somewhere in his head. That made him quickly give up on facing me, instead, he turned his back on me and hid his face. 

His forehead was pressed against the wall. His hands were behind his back. He was panting and humming, pleading with the lovely noises from his throat. 

It only took closing my eyes to recall how beautiful he looked with locks of sweat-soaked hair hanging down his forehead. Whenever I used a little more force, his forehead would bump into the wall, his knuckles would helplessly curl up, desperately groping for my hand. 

The scar on his neck had been turned crimson by desire. Whenever I found the right angle, he would arch his spine and let out honest whines, swinging his hips and jerking back toward my cock. And if I clutched his waist in place to keep him from moving, he would softly gasp then squirm in my arms, pleading with sobs. He would also try to turn his head around to rub his blushed cheeks against my stubble. 

I loved watching him hoarsely whimper when he couldn’t get what he wanted. Whenever that happened, he could not help thrusting his hips forward to grind against the sheets. His face would display a rare perplexed expression. Then it would only take a grip on his cock and some nibbles on his throat to turn him into a complete mess.

But what I truly couldn’t forget was when he turned off his deflector himself and coyly turned away his head, presenting his back to me. When I exited him, he helplessly quivered, then quickly grabbed onto my hand. I held his wrist and intertwined our fingers together, leaving no space between our palms, only then did he relax his tense back muscles and voice out a satisfied sigh. The way he held onto my fingers so sensitively made me fail to wait for him to steady his breathing before thrusting back in again. My previous thought of doing it as a mere act had scattered and disappeared. 

The rougher I was, the gentler his moans were. He began to tremble. His upper body fell down following the direction my weight pressed against him. He turned his head to the side and watched me with his shining eyes. The top half of him jerked up with my every jolt, his entrance softly twitching. I leaned in and grabbed his ass to pull him closer, and he almost choked on an anxious scream. He was still shaking by the time I had him secured in my arms. But as I lowered my head to suck on his scar, his entrance firmly furled around me. He opened his mouth but his scream was silent. His cum spilled on my hand. I stroked his tip with my thumb, then he began to toss and turn in my arms. 

The moment he came, he gazed up at me, and the blue in his eyes became so deep as his chest heaved violently. 

It only took pinning one of his arms behind his back to make his eyelashes flutter. Next, his other hand slipped to his crotch to hold around his cock. He held on so firmly, so obediently, as if he would come as soon as I gave the command.

After I pulled out, I gripped his ass, not permitting him to move away. I spread his cheeks, exposing his well-bedewed hole. Although he was already exhausted and had his eyes half-closed, he still let me play. 

I bent down, kissed his entrance, and then kissed his overlapped palms — he cried out uncontrollably; with his husky voice, he whimpered a “no”. 

In response to my confusion, he turned around and embraced me, blocking my question with kisses on my neck.

“You are a horrible kisser,” he teased, “when you meet that Neil in the future, don’t kiss him like this — promise me.”

I just shrugged. I pulled in his hips and kneaded his cheeks apart, then pressed my thumb into him. He licked his lips and sucked the finger I just took out of him until his bottom lip was obscenely glistening with my cum. When I pulled out my finger, he intentionally made a blatantly loud slurp, but the deep blush on his face gave his true feelings away. 

I rested my back against the headboard, parted my legs, and crooked my finger at him. He bent down and took me into his mouth. He choked a little and gingerly peeked up at me. I smiled at him and let my eyes trace down his face. He gulped.

“Be a good boy,” I said.

He obediently lowered his head and took in every inch of me.

These scenes played over and over again in my brain. This guide had saved my life and slept with me twice. It was impossible to restore whatever we had between us back to simplicity. I could have protected him if I told them where the agreement was earlier; however, he didn’t blame me. With his neck wrapped in gauze and his delicate face ruined by bloodstains, he looked so different from how I remembered him. I still did not know why he was helping me; nevertheless, I had come to trust him more and more, in some moments, I even could not leave him behind — even though I did not want to admit it, this guide had already become increasingly important to me, not just as an ally. 

Neil was frowning and groaning in his sleep. I reached my hand under the blanket covering him and held his hand.

“Where are we going?” Woken by my movement, he murmured in a haze.

“New York,” I answered, “Sator is going to Manhattan for an art auction, and we’re going to meet him there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The way their dynamic progressed in this chapter just breaks my heart, in a good way.  
> The story is getting more intense which is very exciting! I'll be adding additional warnings to some of the future chapters because there might be potential triggers. Just a heads-up!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Potential trigger: human auction
> 
> As always, thank you, [@yan_zi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yan_zi/pseuds/yan_zi), for betaing!

Outside the window, raindrops scattered down in New York. The guide in bed insecurely shivered. I reached out with my hand to wrap him in my arms. 

“Are you familiar...” Crosby always paused between his sentences so cleverly, “...with Sator’s art preference?”

“Why,” I glanced at Neil’s face in his deep sleep, lowering my voice, “he prefers Romanticism?”

At the other end of the phone, Crosby’s laughter was as brisk as the rain pattering outside. 

“No,” he said, “it’s just what he auctions is not art, but humans. Rumor has it that he likes to collect guides. You can find him in the art space under his name: The Benatti Gallery on 72nd Street, near Verdi Square. It’s not hard to find, but you better be prepared — for what you’ll see in there.” 

“I thought we had already run out of guides.”

“It is an expensive hobby, no doubt about that,” Crosby answered, “but Sator thinks it’s worth the money.”

I shook my head and hung up. The deeper I got into this mission, the more stubborn my perplexity became. We were supposed to be the righteous ones, but the measures we took were no different from those of Rosetta. These guys — whose names Crosby had cunningly concealed — had all heard of Sator’s hobby, but they still sent me a guide. Perhaps in their eyes, Neil and I were merely collateral damage.

Neil turned around in my arms and buried his fingers in my hair, which successfully chased all my unpleasant thoughts away. I hummed joyfully, returned to bed, and curled my arm around the guide who was leaning close to me. 

“What do you think?”

“Tricky,” Neil said, “what’s your plan?”

“We need a guide,” I said, “someone low-key but exceptional, smart but difficult to tame. The kind that would intrigue Sator.”

“Say it, go on,” Neil gazed into my eyes with total comprehension, “it would be best if he was inverted back here illegally, which would dispel Sator’s suspicion. His identity as a dark guide would drive up his value. The scar on his neck would make him even rarer. Was that what you wanted to say?”

I felt guilty. I didn’t want to treat him as a rare collectible. If there was any other feasible way, I would definitely not exploit his scar. However, time was limited, and I couldn’t come up with another plan, which he knew as well. By now, it was too risky to get another person involved. 

“I will make sure you have enough time to evacuate.”

“What should I be looking for in there?”

“Once you’re in, take note of details on Sator’s security: how many men are with him, when they change shifts, are they guides or sentinels, have they been trained. Also the gallery’s interior structure — sound-absorbing panels, white noise machines, full-spectrum lightings, et cetera,” I listed them out one by one, “If that sentinel wants to assassinate him, he would most likely do it in the gallery. Remember, don’t linger. As soon as you get the intel we need, take the opportunity I’ll create for you to escape.”

“Oh God.” The shock in his eyes showed that he understood my underlying message. “It’s a prison for guides.”

I silently confirmed. Keeping the truth away from him would do him no good. It was best for him to know what he was about to face. 

“If the plan goes smoothly, I’ll be competing with Sator for you in the auction,” I feigned a relaxed look, “Don’t reveal all your abilities since we don’t know how exactly they select guides. Your scar won’t be displayed publicly, it’ll only be a part of his discovery process.”

Neil smiled at me, and the trust in his smile brushed away all the gloom brought by the job. 

“Looks like we need to go shopping.” He winked.

As Neil came out from the fitting room, he saw every bit of the expression on my face. I couldn’t help laughing. He looked down at himself in a whimsical manner.

“Is there something wrong?”

A double-breasted navy blue suit, a silver tie, hair slicked back, a pair of brogue shoes. He certainly did look like an art dealer from Bond Street. You could almost hear his accent. But that was only putting together the facade. To fool Sator, just looking like a guide was not enough. 

I stood up from the couch in the waiting room and walked to his side. We were standing in front of a trifold mirror. Neil’s front and side reflections in the mirror all turned to me at the same time, curiously watching me. 

I stood behind him and breathed out against the back of his neck. For a moment, he just stood there watching me, holding his breath. 

The first thing I did was reach for his throat, pulling apart the tie knot he had finished. He obediently lifted his chin. The move of handing me control over his vital point made my breathing a mess. I hooked my fingertips around that silver tie, and with a little pull, I had him leaning against me. 

“First,” I told him, “the tie is unnecessary.” 

I held onto one end of the tie, pulling that silver, diagonally-patterned fabric off his collar. The other end of it swept past his shoulder. If that sensation made him gasp, I pretended like I didn’t notice. Next, my hands returned under his chin and undid the first two buttons of his shirt, keeping his collar at an appropriate looseness. 

“Then,” I intentionally stayed silent for a few seconds, my fingertips probing open his collar, “we definitely can’t appear to be overly serious.”

It was hard to tell what he was thinking through his reflection in the mirror. He just slowly blinked his eyes at me. 

“Let me see your hand,” I said nonchalantly as if I was chatting about the weather.

Neil gulped, then gave his wrists to me. I lifted his hands, took off his cufflinks, and selected a new pair from the accessory tray—the ones with the armored knights—then returned to his side. 

“These would hint at your identity as a guide,” I said. 

He lowered his gaze, watching me putting them on him. My thumb pressed against his bare wrist, but I stopped the touch as soon as I was done. I let go of his wrists and smiled at him. He looked just right — he seemed a little hard to approach, but at the same time, possible to lure. His eyes were mildly befuddled, yet the way he stood there fluttering his lashes made him appear like someone who had never been conquered by desires. 

“Don’t use cologne, let your natural guide pheromone come out,” I reminded him.

For a finishing touch, I ran my fingers through his hair and made it a little ruffled.

“So ——” Neil pressed his lips together and wondered for a second, then looked up at me, “—Is that all?”

“And one last thing,” I smirked, “you shall leave here with some colors of desire.”

“Is that Ashbery?” Neil ruthlessly mocked me, “I have always quite liked it.”

I let go of my hand and wrapped my fingers around his throat instead. Just as he held his breath, I pressed a loud kiss behind his ear. His eyes opened wider, and his throbbing pulse accelerated. I could let him go now, but I gripped onto his hair and forced him to hold the position for a while, then released him at last. 

He looked extremely fragile as if he was about to insult me the very next second. But his expression—as if my lips were still caressing behind his ear, and as if my hands were still on him—was pure yearning. 

My sensory ability was collecting all his outputs: his intensely disordered pulse, his half-erected cock and tensed thighs, the drop of sweat that slid down his throat to the hollow above his collar bone. The most important thing was he didn’t know how alluring he was. And that was the key to this play—I tried hard to not think about the irony in it, the fact that I was basically going to pimp my guide. 

But of course, Neil wouldn't let it go easily. During the week we had stayed in New York, he had already become adroit at playing with my weak spot. After a repressive wrestle with his own desire, he looked up at me with uneven breaths. 

“Umm,” Neil let out a tender nasal sound, regaining his true color of pride. “You certainly try very hard at selling your guide.”

I burst out in laughter. He pulled me close, rubbing the tip of his nose against mine. I lifted my head to let him kiss my chin, embracing his shoulders in my arms. He pushed me back against the mirror, kissing my lips. 

_How wonderful it would be if we never had to leave here!_ But I knew my wish would never come true. After a brief moment of happiness, I would be taking him to Verdi Square myself. 

I decided at last to tell him one thing.

“The role I let you play is my guide, but once the mission ends, you will be killed. That’s their order to me.”

Neil pondered my words. He didn’t appear surprised. 

“Why are you telling me now?”

“You know why,” I said, keeping my tone as the usual, “if you decide to leave, I would not use any means to go after you. I also would not tell Rosetta where you are. You have my promise. But I can only give you one chance.”

Neil didn’t scruple to smile at me, tilting his head backward and tracing his hand down my waist. 

“We can think about that issue after this,” he whispered next to my ear.

With his hair tickling against my face, I lowered my head and nuzzled his neck. If the one having this conversation with me was the other Neil, maybe he would have given me a different answer. But the one in my arms—to my unwilling realization—had already given up on believing in chance. Prolonged kisses changed to a tender touch between our lips. I hesitantly waited until Neil became quiet in my embrace. He gazed intently at me with his forehead pressed against mine. 

“I will let you know,” Neil said.

Two days later, I swaggered into the Banetti Gallery. My guise as Ellis had already been exposed, I was now Rosario, an art dealer from Vienna. Like everyone else, I received an auction item list, an illustrated brochure, and a map of the Banetti art space. I strode through the gate, spoke out the name of my recommender, charged into the art trade hall two stories underground, and settled in a theater seat. In the eyes of the others, I was squinting my eyes and raising my head, tapping along to the exquisite white noise of this place. 

It was a beautiful night with cool breezes. Rosario had just earned a great deal by illegally smuggling art, so he wanted to enjoy his life. The only disappointment was that someone who he had to go chat with was sitting in front of him, and the appearance of that guy—how should we describe him?—was like a prison with thick walls and rippled glass. 

_If that is Sator, then I have to take a couple seconds to mourn for Rosario’s fate._

The vibe of this sentinel was frightening. His eyes were two holes drilled on a coarse stone, serving as the only windows of the prison.

I stood up arrogantly, ignoring the obstruction from Sator’s bodyguards, and sat down in the empty seat next to him.

“So you’re the one who sold his own guide,” Sator did not even look at me. “What do you want?”

“To meet with you.”

Sator humphed, “Such a dumb way to die.”

 _Whatever he said._ “Someone wants to kill you. A sentinel inverted back from the future.”

“So,” Sator said, “you want to protect me.”

I couldn’t tell from this sentinel’s face if he was resenting that thought or affirming it. 

“I just want to know why this sentinel wants to kill you,” I cleverly kept a trick up my sleeves, “call it professional curiosity.”

Sator laughed.

“I always forget. Sentinel base, guide house, you have to listen to the institution’s commands, don’t you? Where I was growing up, we had no base. Once a sentinel awakened—as long as he awakened—he only listened to the commands of his heart.”

_This is truly a waste of time._

Personally, I didn’t give a damn if Sator died. It would actually help me if someone killed him. I would not act as if I liked the guy. But I assumed a loaded arms trafficker would at least care about his own life. I smiled at Sator like a confident bastard. When you negotiate with bastards, you gotta learn their language. 

“The base didn’t send me,” I said, “I work for myself. My name is Ellis—maybe you’ve heard about me. Rosetta has offered a fat reward for that sentinel. I’m thinking we could work together, I give you the information, and you give him to me.”

“For what?” The arms trafficker didn’t even spare me some attention. “I don’t need money. And I don’t need help. I am a sentinel myself. I can also tell you, this is not the first time someone has tried to kill me. Usually, they’ll quickly regret it.”

“Not this one,” I cut to the chase, “Let’s put it this way, he’s coming to wipe your existence off a certain file.”

“My existence,” Sator sneered coarsely, “If I did leave my name on some official documents, the ones to be ashamed for it should be the people you work for, not me. Rosetta is just a cover-up for dirty works. As for you, you’re rather too eloquent to be a bounty hunter. That guide of yours, can’t he speak for himself?”

“Didn’t think the famous Sator would take an interest in my guide.”

“Let me tell you what you’re doing.” Sator said disdainfully, “You two have talked it over, he probes my emotion, and you’re in charge of the talking. Not bad, you are one of the few who can make my pulse exceed 100. However, I have no secrets in my head.”

I shifted my posture. Sator’s smugness made me uncomfortable, but he did not care at all.

“You know why I love art galleries? There are many locked rooms here. You can lock an empath here for a century, all the sensory overload can bury him alive. When you leave this auction, my subordinate will take you to tour one of the rooms. You will die in there, and no one will ever know you had once been here.” Sator delightfully described the scene to me as if it was his brilliant invention, “I don’t like to kill off a sentinel too fast, at least not before I bid off his guide. You’ll see it soon.”

“I also like guides,” I paused to make him understand my hint, “especially those from the future.”

Sator cast me a glance. “You’re not an art dealer.” His words shot me like a rubber bullet.

“I’m an art dealer with a tenet.” I seized the opportunity to throw out this line. 

Sator fixed his gaze on my face as if I was a fly that had gotten into his territory, and the reason that he had not killed me was only to pass time. 

“What do you know about Tenet?”

“Not here,” I dropped the bait. It was time to leave him hanging. “Not before my guide enters.”

The timing was perfect: with his characterless London accent, the emcee standing behind the auction stand was calling out collectible No. 12’s name. I took the gap to adjust my thoughts so no sign of discomfort would leak out once Neil appeared. The last time I saw him was forty-eight hours ago. Now, as the stage lift they used to display guides rose, I would be able to see him again. 

A faint scent of rusty iron hovered in the air, then the salty smell of sweat. 

I suddenly narrowed my eyes, fixing my gaze at the cage on stage—maybe I had underestimated Sator’s ruthlessness, or overestimated my own generosity—they did not leave his clothes on.

Neil was naked. They had cut his hair short to put his scar on view, as well as every other part of his body. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possible triggers: human auction, mentions of human trafficking, physical abuse
> 
> Beta'ed by [@yan_zi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yan_zi/pseuds/yan_zi)

I sat in my seat trying hard to remember when was the last time I found myself under similar circumstances. Bidding on a guide didn’t sound more despicable than the other things I had been hired to do, but in reality, I hated it more than I expected. 

They had genuine leather seats and sound-absorbing carpet. Acoustic panels and air filters had canceled out most of the noise. All the sensory output had been adjusted to bring utmost comfort to sentinels, but not guides. It was fortunate for me, otherwise, my ears would have caught the gossiping that white noise machines could not block, as well as a few giggles. However, the moment collectible No.12 made his entrance, my acute sentinel instincts caught all the gasps, chatters, and whispers from the rows behind. 

Of course, these people had the right to select their guides.  _ Don’t try to use logic, Ellis, trust your instincts. _ I remembered once again what the matchmaker of the London Tower once said to me. Dejection, disappointment, and trampled pride, fragments of memories emerged in my brain. I refused to share a guide with other sentinels, so I left that place. But I had never regretted it. 

In the army, countless sentinels who were more outstanding than me died because they couldn't get a guide, but these people were treating living guides as toys to flaunt their wealth or to pass the time. The comparison made me sick. 

To hide my emotions, I sat upright in my seat, forcing myself to gaze ahead as if I was enticed. Restless, competitive, or emotional, none of them were suitable strategies for the moment. At least not when Sator was sitting next to me.

“How do things like this normally work?” I asked Sator to provoke him to speak, and also to play dumb.

“You will find out soon,” Sator said coldly, without a trace of change in his expression. 

Following the indifferent Russian oligarch’s evaluative gaze, I looked to the guide. As I watched him, I couldn’t help comparing what I was seeing with my impression of him. Because I knew him so well, I didn’t need to stare with my eyes to find every detail about Neil that differed from my memory of him: his silky blond locks were gone, replaced by short hair cut near the scalp. Compared to the last time I saw him, the scar by his neck became more obvious under the spotlight. I could precisely recognize the new crease created by the dagger, a ruddy line tempting to be traced with fingers. His eyes were perplexed and hazy, not as pristine as in my memory, maybe they had injected tranquilizer into him before coming on stage. And his skin, a soft, strange glow covered from his shoulders to his abdomen, like a boxer’s skin, maybe they applied lotion on him to intensify his attractiveness to sentinels.

_ It shouldn’t be like this. Neil shouldn’t be treated as an item. If they can do such things, what else are they going to do next?  _ The guide met my eyes, but he did it very ingeniously as if he was staring at the entire row. 

Sator turned away his gaze and leisurely tapped on his watch, making it display his pulse. 

“Under 100,” Sator sounded like he was sick of it, “Nothing special about this one, plus, he is a defective product.”

With my old temper, I would have dragged him by the collar and threw him out. But for Neil, I couldn’t. And for this mission, I shouldn’t. I repressed the bursting rage in my heart, letting out a snort. 

Sator raised his glass, taking methodical sips while swaying his wrist. He had already returned to his comfortable incline against the back of the seat. Out of all the sentinels present, only he behaved like he was in his own home. 

I heard a sentinel bidding from the back, and Sator’s contemptuous face looked like he was saying,  _ what a stupid sentinel _ . 

_ It’s Neil _ , I thought between the interval of my heartbeats,  _ this defective product has a name _ .

Maybe my reticence intrigued Sator, or maybe he just wanted to further incite me. After the auctioneer’s cadenced call, Sator uttered in his emotionlessly monotonic voice. 

“However, he knows how to attract others’ attention. I’ll admit that. What a slut.”

Neil had his eyes half-lidded, his head tilted backward, and his hands behind his back, which could have been misinterpreted as a gesture of offering himself. The spotlight on him also glowed on his glistering thighs and chest. But I saw the curve of his lips, the corners bent downward, the lips pressed together into a faint arc. His breathing had grown somewhat heavy. The signs that were hard for other sentinels to understand exposed his discomfort to me. When Sator said “slut”, my breaths went wild for a second, making me miss something the auctioneer said. Another bid was placed, and Neil’s gaze vaguely swept by me—he must have sensed the fluctuation of my emotions, which made me a little comforted. The tightness in my throat disappeared, my emotions recovered to stability. 

“Maybe you should make the conclusion after the appraiser finishes his job.” I answered, “He has been injured, but he is definitely not a defective product.” 

“Bidding guides is not a horse auction, moron.” Sator pushed an insult out of his throat, expressing how much he disdained my argument, “We don’t only look at the hoofs and teeth. No matter how many loops the appraiser takes your horse on, he is still an ordinary slut.”

“Like the guides you locked up in your personal jail? What did you do to make them behave?”

“You’re not as ignorant as you pretended to be,” he cast me a glance, a glance that appraised my total worth along with the suit on me, “then you must know he had been bonded. Caerimonia Compagno: guides who have been through it aren’t worth anything. Remarking them is too much trouble, takes too long, and you also need to use tools on them. Besides, your guide doesn’t have bonding heat.”

_ Use tools on them _ , his lighthearted yet brutal word choice made me frown. During our conversation, the first round of symbolic bidding had concluded. Having disparaged my guide and proved me to be an overconfident idiot, Sator became even more insufferably arrogant. 

I studied the pictures in my brochure to avoid further conversation, but I made a gesture to Sator when the appraiser with white gloves and tuxedo stepped on the stage. It could be interpreted as I didn’t want to miss my guide’s performance, or I had grown tired of the nonsense. I leaned out to pour myself a glass, deliberately swaying a frivolous glare past Neil’s tightened throat, then smirked at Sator. 

“We can talk about money later,” I said, “I don’t want to miss my favorite part. How do you guys display guides in Moscow? I hope you don’t copy the Las Vegas-style, not that I oppose watching guides dancing half-naked.”

“Um,” Sator’s response was gruff and coarse, “he has to learn another dance here.” He spitefully leaned back his head, making a strange smile. His raised arm gestured toward the entire stage, “The appraiser who you thought so highly of is on stage now.”

The appraiser was a sentinel, the type that concealed all emotions within. His face was like a forged iron desk, free of all colors of emotions. He walked to the cage and pressed a button. It played gentle music to the sentinels’ ears, but the tune was capable of piercing through a guide’s shield and creating devastating outcomes. 

The rasping empathic projection immediately domed over the entire cage. I distraughtly watched as Neil’s face gradually turned pale—the army’s confinement chambers had taught me well about this: I wasn’t punished many times, but enough to make me know that guides had their own confinement chambers. Every time this specific frequency was played, waves of screams would reach my ears. Those who didn’t beg were the minority, but Neil could count as one of them. He did not make a sound, only somewhat short of breath. After the stiffness at his throat relaxed, he stumbled out of the cage himself, which seemed to be the exact thing the white-gloved guy was waiting for. He adjusted Neil’s stance, lifting Neil’s chin with his hand.

I wasn’t sure if I should have felt proud or deeply agitated about it, after all, Neil had successfully made it to this round. As for the others who didn’t pass the selection or were bought in, I didn’t dare to think of their fate. 

That sentinel turned Neil’s head in an exhibiting manner, making Neil arch his neck to expose his scent gland. There was a smile on his lips, but his eyes were despicably narrowed. My previous naive thought— _ maybe he would just draw a tube of Neil’s pheromone, then use test strips to present its scent _ —retreated to the back of my head. That sentinel was emitting a primeval call, an explicit and barbaric impulse. If I sensed it, none of the sentinels present could have been exempt. Under the summon of this impulse, they would more likely treat the guide as a product than a human being. I could detect so many pairs of eyes hidden amid the dusky light, waiting for an outcome. They were all dying to know how rare the guide on stage was. And to know that, Neil’s pheromone had to be let out, a duty that had fallen on the shoulders of the savage appraiser. 

_ What is he planning to do? _

He stood behind Neil, sniffing behind his ear, purposely making a loud sound—this type of show made me sick to my stomach. Neil rigidly stood in place, constraining the urge to hand over his body. His face clearly communicated that unless they cut him open, no one could have a taste of his pheromone. 

Sator shifted in his seat and sneered beside my ear. 

“Let’s hope that your guide knows what he’s doing,” he commented nonchalantly. But this blood-thirsty sentinel was obviously a little hooked, which he didn’t hide from me. 

Neil shut his eyes as if he was aiming an intense empathic projection on that appraiser. That sentinel suddenly acted like someone had thrown a fist at him. He backed up, releasing his hands from Neil. But he quickly returned. My heart dropped as I saw what was in his hand: it was a whip.

“Shouldn’t the auction house ensure the completeness of the collectibles?” I said, inwardly resenting myself to the extreme for my powerlessness.

“He will recover,” Sator answered indifferently, “If he is lucky, he’ll be in seventh heaven on some sentinel’s bed tonight—we have the perfect anechoic chambers, he won’t remember his injury, nor the fact that he had a sentinel.”

“If?” I questioned.

“If. Don’t provoke a lion, when it walks toward you, all you need to do is to admire its valiancy,” Sator laughed vulgarly, “Gavriil has twenty years of experience, he can train your guide for you. Pheromone mixed with blood is always the best. And the best time to savor it—” Sator dramatically paused, squinting his eyes, “—is right after the first whip.”

The sound of the whip was crisp and forceful. The scene before me made me instantly understand what Sator said. The first whip landed on Neil’s inner thigh, slashing open the air, hitting his most fragile part. Perhaps its force was far less horrifying than the sound it made, but Neil immediately kneeled and lowered his head. 

Pheromones diffused in the air, mingling with the rusty scent of blood. Sator deeply inhaled, like this bloody scent was some sort of fine wine. 

I anxiously stared at Gavriil gripping the tip of the whip, pacing in the shadow behind Neil. I would rather see Neil’s submitting posture as a strategy to present himself, otherwise, it would’ve been unbearable to me. Just as I prepared for the worst case scenario while Gavriil was about to execute more whipping, Sator tasted something in the guide’s pheromone from the air and raised his hand. His signal to stop and a few commands at the ears of his subordinates temporarily paused the flogging. 

Gavriil took back the short cowhide whip into his palms. Neil received a brief intersession while Sator glared daggers at me. 

“You didn’t mention that he is a Rosetta guide.”

“Does that make a difference?” I continued to play dumb, “I didn’t know it would pump up his worth.”

“Inversion intensifies a guide’s pheromone, the effect of adrenaline and psychology. The one you’ve collected, I’m afraid he is as conspicuous as a white peacock,” he scorned, “what else haven’t you told me? —oh, you are now thinking. No worries, I can find out myself. You actually didn’t bid before the first whip hit him, seems like I have underestimated you.”

“I want to see what else is next,” I purposely provoked him, “I don’t get to see the circus every day.”

Sator raised his chin, spitting out a sentence between his teeth, “Let me tell you: the circus is nothing compared to this.”

Sator made another gesture, this time including all of Neil’s naked chest, the contorted scar on his neck, his recently healed scar tissues, and his dampened bottom lip. His arrogance had channeled to Neil. Neil’s lightly knitted brows and unsettled gaze were the proof. 

The guide on stage became nervous. 

My stomach twisted with discomfort. I tried to determine how much leverage I had left. I was distracted for a second in my contemplation. Neil had stood up again, sweat trickling down the tips of his hair and falling to the hardwood floor. It sounded like a string of suppressed bullets through my enhanced hearing. I was too focused on him and too careless about myself. It was already too late when I realized two of Sator’s men had surrounded me from the back. 

Before I could even turn around, a right uppercut smashed to my temple. It was so fast that I had to jerk my head to the side. The punch was enough to break bones, but I turned just in time, just falling off the chair. Once I lost my center of gravity, I tasted blood between my teeth. The other one dragged me off the ground to make me a punchbag for the guy who just hit me. I did not beg, only slightly distorted the expression on my face. Blood dripped from the corner of my mouth. My knees fell to the ground. The beating lasted less than five minutes; however, when it stopped, I was sure I got the shape of one of their knuckles imprinted on my jaw. I blinked off the sweat in my eyes, attempting to stabilize my convulsing sight. 

Sator was still comfortably sitting in his seat. Although getting beat up was necessary, it didn’t mean I liked it. 

“Do you know under only what circumstances would a guide materialize his spirit guide?” Quite the opposite of my misery, Sator was calmly breathing, thoroughly enjoying the chaos he created. “When his sentinel’s safety is at risk but he can’t do anything to help. The next show will need a little of your help—Get him off the ground.”

When he said “help”, it felt like he was talking about something more imposing, not just fists and teeth. His buff sentinels grabbed onto me, forcing me into a kneel. I ground my teeth and made a scoundrelly grimace, but it froze on my face when something pushed against the back of my head. It was a gun firmly gripped in the hand of one of his men. While adjusting my breaths, my voice became hoarse. 

“You—you and these guys invited me on purpose,” I feigned exasperation, “you want to use me to trigger out his spirit guide. This is a scam! You used me!” 

“Oh, you’ll be compensated,” Sator didn’t even try to hide how tired he was of my performance, “Molov.”

That buff man smashed the gunstock to my head. I wobbled and snorted. But his next move was not so fun: he strangled my neck, pulling me backward. It felt like I was hit by a train—he had to be at least two hundred fifty pounds. Sator tilted his head to one side and squinted his eyes as if hunting for a secret melody. Then all of a sudden, Neil gasped and kneeled.

An Iberian lynx appeared out of thin air at the center of the stage. It bared its teeth roaring at Gavriil. It was not my first time seeing a spirit guide, but this one was bizarre. Gavriil looked like he saw a ghost. I stabilized myself, grabbing the arm of the chair. No one tried to stop me because every eye had been drawn to the animal on stage—it was like a big cat; however, it was anything but ordinary. Its tail was swaying with rage as if it would pounce and attack at any second. 

The white noise machines were softly humming. Sator turned toward a certain direction, uttering an improperly intimate rumble of praise. I looked in that direction and saw a sizable pool of blood under the animal, which was unusual enough, but it was still expanding. 

Neil’s face was softened once his spirit animal appeared. His breaths settled, and his pheromone peaks dropped. When the animal strode around Neil with the tread of a predator, I heard a gasp from the guy who beat me.

One side of its body was just a skeleton, nothing but bones. That was why it was so strange. However, Sator seemed to be very fond of it. 

“Only this can make my pulse exceed 120,” he lauded sinisterly, “a pureblood dark guide. I’m afraid you have to explain now, Mr. Rosario. Why did you hide the fact that you are this guide’s true sentinel?”

_ He said I am—what?  _ I snapped my head up to look at Neil. 

On stage, the look on his face was as if someone had a knife against his throat. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'ed by [@yan_zi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yan_zi/pseuds/yan_zi)

On stage, Neil’s spirit guide paced slowly yet rhythmically. Below the stage, I kneeled on the ground with Sator’s condescending gaze locked on me.

I should have injected a suppressant before coming. But I overestimated myself, for the job and regarding the guide. Someone dared to teach me a lesson about my guide, and this someone just happened to be Andrei Sator. I had never thought I would find myself like this one day. The contempt in Sator’s voice could have taken on a life of its own. I clenched my fists, responding to him with glares.

“I don’t know who his sentinel is. Whoever it is, it’s not me.” I smirked, “I just found him in Tallinn.”

“I’m going to ask you one more time,” Sator said lazily. “Why did you hide the fact that you are this guide’s sentinel? Who exactly are you?”

“Listen, if you want to accuse me, you better have evidence. All you’ve said until now are only your biased opinions.”

“A guide would only bring out his spirit guide when his sentinel is in danger, which proves that you have him marked and claimed,” Sator’s imperious tone sounded like he was saying something that everyone should have known, “Why you snapped the link, cut out his gland, and sent him to the auction is your business. Only half of his spirit guide is left, which means someone sent him here from the future—a spirit guide would split into two when going through that turnstile. Let me tell you what happened: you marked him, then sent him back. This doesn’t look like the style of a bounty hunter, but rather that of a CIA agent.”

“I was also fooled, okay?! I have never seen this guy’s spirit guide until today.”

“Or,” Sator narrowed his eyes, “you’re just playing with me. There are no sentinels on the run.”

“You think a CIA agent would make a deal with an arms trafficker? He would auction off his own guide?”

“Now? No,” Sator’s gaze swept across my face, “but no one can guarantee the future.”

 _Fuck. I’ll just risk it all._ “If you want to punish me for what has not yet happened, then go ahead. Why waste time? Come, just kill me. No matter if I’m this guide’s sentinel or not, you’ll kill me anyway.”

“Don’t teach me when to kill.” Sator was provoked. “I, Andrei Sator, have killed ten times more sentinels than you have.”

“But you don’t wanna kill me yet,” I stared into his eyes, “You fear the sentinel who I’m after. You can’t kill me as long as I have intel on him—it must be so unbearable for you.”

“Shut the fuck up!” Sator suddenly coarsely growled, his anger silencing the whole room, “What I want is a complete guide! Complete, meaning his spirit guide must be complete. If you are truly his sentinel, when the future you appears, the other half of his spirit guide would naturally appear. That’s the only reason you’re still breathing—not because I like how you look.”

“You know? That truly hurts my heart.” I glibly answered. 

Sator returned to his indifference. He was finally fed up with the haggle. 

“Listen carefully, I will pay nine million dollars for your guide,” his face darkened, “and then I’ll gift him to you. Two days from now, in Oslo, I want you to bring him to me and tell him that I am his new owner. Unless you offer this guide with your own hands and watch me brand him with your own eyes, the deal between us does not count. Bring the guide, then we can talk about other things—I can give you that sentinel.”

I instantly averted my gaze from Sator back to Neil. Damn it, Sator obviously knew how to humiliate a sentinel. He didn’t want things that money could buy; what he wanted was me serving my guide on a silver platter. 

Neil and I held our gaze for a second. I couldn’t understand what was in his eyes. I turned back, calmed myself, and faked a smile.

“Where is my compensation?” I yelled, “You haven’t even given me a down payment! At least tell me what you know about that sentinel!”

“At nine o’clock,” Sator humphed, throwing something at me, “come to my yacht, and you will know.”

That thing hit me right on my face. I picked it up from the floor. It was my deflector. This little thing had already been soaked in blood and my cold sweat. 

The next guide entered, but I didn’t pay attention. I watched Sator leaving through the aisle. I didn’t even notice when the Iberian lynx approached me from behind. By the time I turned around, this animal’s tail was gently brushing against my bicep as if to comfort me. 

“Let’s go,” I bitterly smiled at it, hissing as I got back on my feet, “let’s see what other surprises are waiting for us.”

Two minutes later, I threw a sensory-deficient guard to the wall, stepped over a sentinel squirming in pain on the ground, and walked out of the back stairway. 

The street was quiet. I caught a glimpse of a car parked by the corner. Seemed like Sator really cared if I was still handsome after another beating. 

Once the guy behind the wheel saw me walking down the stairs, he immediately stomped on the gas and fled like lightning. 

I fixed my sleeves as I watched the car accelerating away and shrugged my shoulders. Even though no one invited me to, I still made sure I toured around inside Banetti. When I was running around inside, I didn't even see a guide. Countless sentinels rushed to attack me but only with guns or fists. Sator’s “gift” would probably come at a cost, but first, I had to survive until then—second, I still hadn’t seen Neil. 

The big cat beside me crouched down, licking the face of one of the sentinels. Her ears stood up as she mewed at me. I nodded. 

“That’s right. These guys are not from here,” I said, “Only hell knows where Sator hauled them from. Eastern Europe or Central Asia. Their pheromones smell like they’re from over there. Sator probably has his private training grounds since he doesn’t trust sentinel bases.”

She appeared wanting to answer; however, a certain sound sent her springing. She stared at the other end of the street and howled. 

I spun my head in that direction. A silhouette appeared by the corner. The streetlight elongated it, making it impossible to distinguish its outline. I held my breath until the owner of the silhouette finally stepped into my view. My eyes briefly locked on his face, not daring to believe that he had returned. 

Neil was standing right before me. 

I could hear his heartbeats, ragged breaths, exhausted steps, and his scent—pheromone, blood, and sweat—smelled so familiar. 

Neil’s steps grew slower and slower. When there was only a step of a distance left between us, he reluctantly stopped. Maybe it was adrenaline affecting him because I was slightly shaking too. 

I could wait no more. In the end, I took the step left between us. 

Neil had bruises near his lips. His smiles and movements were anxious and stiff. But when I walked close, he visibly relaxed. I lifted my hand to touch him, but then stopped myself. He shut his eyes and leaned his head on my shoulder.

“I have something to tell you,” Neil whispered.

 _Exactly what I have been afraid of hearing_ , I said to myself.

“Not here,” I forced out a grin, “let me take you and—” I turned my head around but Neil’s spirit guide had already disappeared. “—home first,” I finished my sentence out of habit, “Where’d she go?”

Leaning his weight on me, Neil dazedly smiled, “Once she ensures your safety, she no longer appears. She needs rest.”

“And so do you,” I intentionally ignored the question in my heart, “let’s go, we need to get out of this damn place.”

The auction felt like a previous life once we were in a comfortable and neat hotel room. The sound of the hot shower temporarily served as white noise, tightly hovering over us. 

Neil was unprecedentedly cooperative, allowing me to bring him into the shower and lean him against the smooth tiles. I held onto his arms to make him stand straight and turned on the water to test its temperature. The spatter of water quickly dampened our hair. The atmosphere was steamy and beautiful, but either of us was in the mood to make anything happen. 

Neil had withdrawn his worn-out shield once he stepped through the door. I maintained resonance with him, helping him to be as relaxed as possible. He didn’t come in any clothing in the first place, which took half the hassle out of the way. All I had to do was angle the showerhead at him to make the water flow down his entire body. 

Neil arched his body against mine, softly sighing. My hand slithered across his chest and abdomen, lathering up bubbles. He shivered under my hand, biting his lip to bury those tiny whines. He trembled when a stream of water ran down the wound on his leg and looked at me with perturbed eyes. I lowered the water pressure, stroking his back over and over until he relaxed again and buried his head on my shoulder. 

The blood on his wound faded under the water, transforming into traces of pink on his skin. He looked up at me with his Adam’s apple throbbing as if silently requesting for something. I hesitated. And when his arms wrapped around my waist, I froze. Our hips pressed against each other. He chased my lips but I replied with a kiss on his neck instead.

Neil made a disappointed noise—I listened to his desperate yet hasty gasps. I wrapped my hand around his cock, making it grind against mine. Neil seemed like he wanted to thrust his hips forward to chase my hand, but in the end, he just grabbed onto my arms. Foam streamed down his thighs, outlining the curves of his body. He was quivering as he came the second I tightened my hold on both of us. I heard him deeply inhale, and all his insuppressible movements gradually melted into trembles. His taut nerves slacked, his consciousness, which was linked to mine, grew dim. I caressed his wound with my fingertips, and he cozily breathed in a mouthful of air.

I reached down to where we were pressed together. His firm thighs separated under my hand. I pulled it back, showing to him the dripping liquid in my palm. He licked his lips with the tip of his tongue, carelessly smirking at me. 

The world was still spinning as usual, but all I could hear was his teasing sounds. 

The guide leaned in and licked my hand clean. I heard my heart racing like it was pumping my blood backward. I pulled him close, clutched his waist, and rested my head on his shoulder, breathing him in like crazy.

Only at that moment did I realize how nerve-wracked I had been. Neil seemed to know that. His hand stroked across my hair, quietly comforting me. I latched onto him and took a long time to regain my usual breathing. 

“Ellis.” There was a sense of pity in Neil’s tone.

“No,” I hoarsely interrupted, “give me a few minutes—”

What exactly happened that night? Amidst the chaos, it felt as if the face of that sentinel had vaguely appeared at a distance, scoffing at me. Sator’s imperious assertion, “no one can guarantee the future”, echoed nonstop in my head. Everything turned into a murky swamp, and I was sinking deeper every second. I had to come up with a way to save Neil, complete this mission, and at least get some answers out of it. And behind all that, there was also the dreadful deal that Sator and I were going to reach. 

Without a word, Neil placed his hand on my shoulder. He was grounding me. Through his palm, his empathic projection entered into the mess in my brain. I frowned, using my last drop of energy to stop him—I’d rather he tell me everything himself. 

“—all good,” I pretended to be cheerful, “look, I’m as good as new. Let’s go, we have many things to do tonight.”

I crossed my arms and sat on the couch, watching Neil pour coffee into a mug. He pointed to my mug with the coffee pot. I shook my head. I much preferred some answers compared to the steaming coffee.

Neil held up the mug, methodically sipping his coffee like he knew he would be needing its calories in a moment. I waited until he put down the mug. I let out a long sigh, then finally asked my question.

“Is what Sator said true? I am your sentinel?”

Neil gently smiled, tilting his head like he was retorting the absurdness in my words. 

“Not now,” he said, “what he said happened in the future.”

“So,” I said, “the sentinel who marked you then abandoned you, the sentinel they sent me to find, is actually—”

“You from the future.”

 _Brilliant._ I sucked my teeth. 

“Before we go further into anything else,” I said, “I have two questions for you. Tell me the truth or I can never trust you again. First question, you faked your identity to get on this mission because you knew I was him?”

“That’s just...” Neil made an ambiguous gesture, “...half of the reason. I—”

I interrupted him. Damage control, I didn’t need to know things outside of my capability. “Second question,” I continued undisturbed, “Were you sent here by me from the future?”

“It’s not what you think,” Neil furrowed his brows. My harsh question made him a little lost as to what to do, “I can explain.”

“So you’re saying that you’ve always known that I’m your sentinel—you must think I’m the biggest idiot. When did you plan to tell me the truth? Or did you plan to never tell me?”

Neil sighed. His composure crumbled.

“What good would it do to tell you earlier?” he smiled dejectedly, “If I told you it was you from the future who killed Priya, then you wouldn’t have gone to Amsterdam. If you didn’t go to Amsterdam, we would never have exposed the agreement. If the agreement and your identity weren’t exposed, there would never be any progress in the mission.”

I had guessed that he’d say things like that, but that wasn’t what I wanted to hear. What I wanted to know also wasn't how important the mission was. I was so fed up with rational analysis and shrewd intelligence. I just wanted to know what he really thought in his heart. 

After a brief silence, I said, “Trusting a guide who’s only speaking half of the truth is by nature very difficult, Neil. Plus, you hid from me the key information of this mission.”

“That’s not fair,” Neil immediately protested, his face turning paler, “Telling you wouldn’t have changed anything.”

“Maybe,” I shrugged, rudely interrupting him, “but do you still not understand? — this is our only chance.”

Neil shuddered, or maybe he just grew tense. I sighed, leaned forward, and rested my hands on my knees.

“Listen, what my intuition has told me, your intuition definitely has told you too, and that is our probability of surviving this mission is virtually zero. What you know is the only thing that could get us ahead of that sentinel. You don’t need me to tell you how important that is, otherwise, you’d be fooling yourself. I’m gonna say it again. This is our only chance of survival.”

Neil uncomfortably tilted his head again as if he was trying to swing himself out of a night terror. But his gaze never moved away, instead he locked it on me. The customary polite tone he used on jobs suddenly dropped, all his eloquence shed away. When he opened his mouth, his voice was broken and weary, mixed with self-mockery. 

“Give me a few minutes,” he said like he just accidentally imitated my words. 

I sat in my seat, letting his eyes look straight into me like I was a transparent window. Neil didn’t sink in his chair, but he did change his position. His body movement rushed away from me all of a sudden. That pair of eyes spoke of nothing but dull content. I didn’t hurry him or question him because I was sure that I had reached the answer to the riddle. 

“They actually did find me in Estonia, at least that story wasn’t a lie,” Neil began with a bitter voice. “You taught me everything I know, and I am forever grateful to you, which is true as well. If I had known they would appoint me as your guide, I wouldn’t have stayed, I would have run away the first day they sent me to the Tower.”

“But you didn’t,” I chipped in.

He shook his head in a daze, “The matchmaker told me, if I tried to run, they would lock you up in the London Tower for ten years.”

I grabbed over the bottle and poured myself two fingers of whiskey. Neil wasn’t surprised. 

“I think he has never forgiven me,” he said, “for all the things our unpromising bonding caused—Kat was sent away, the marriage was declared invalid, Max was sent to a foster home. I wrote to her often, but she never replied—I think they wanted to groom him as a guide.”

He paused, perhaps waiting for me to express shock. However, none of that was surprising to me: sounded just like the Tower I knew.

“Go on,” I swallowed a mouthful of alcohol, making a gesture to him, “why must they appoint me—sorry, the future me—a guide?”

“It’s all part of a deal,” Neil bitterly smiled, “If you accepted the guide appointed to you, the Tower would pardon your crime.”

 _That’s something new._ “My crime,” I repeated, “what did I do?”

“You founded Tenet, an organization independent of towers and bases. ”

 _Sounds certainly a little like me._ “I’m guessing the deal failed.”

“One part of it succeeded,” Neil said, “you accepted the guide they appointed. You destroyed the agreement — the one and only file about Tenet. You did everything they asked in the deal. In return, your organization lived. It was permitted to operate outside the Tower’s territory while not limited by many restrictions. You are familiar with one of its names.”

“Rosetta,” I scowled. “If everything went so smoothly, why did he abandon you?”

“I betrayed him,” Neil calmly confessed. “I returned to the past, stole that agreement, and put it in the safe. There were spies in Rosetta so the sentinel base found out right away. I made him be locked up in the London Tower for ten years.”

I could already guess what happened next, “He escaped.”

“Once I heard that—I gouged out my scent gland,” Neil’s mind seemed to have wandered to somewhere far away, “I still remember it was in Istanbul, inside a very humid room, no balcony...They snatched me assuming I knew where he was.”

“I bet they couldn’t even get a fart out of you,” I vulgarly pointed out. Neil remained silent. I then asked, “Why did you betray him?”

“On our last mission,” Neil was painstakingly searching for the right word, “he wanted me to kidnap a woman and a child.”

“And the woman and the child had no names?” I said.

Neil sneered as if he knew I would say that. 

“Kat, and Max,” he spoke hoarsely, “were their names.”

I went quiet. Neil mumbled hastily as if he was scared for me to refute, “...at that moment, I realized Tenet was not the same Tenet in the past, and you…” he quickly glanced at me, his somber face became indifferent, “...were not who you used to be. Rosetta appeared as an organization that trained guides, but its real function was kidnapping and assassination. No one wanted the agreement to leak to the public, especially the people who came to you and me. That’s the reason why we’re here.”

“What role does Sator play in this?”

“Sator found a way to invert resonance,” Neil said, “I believe that’s why your future self wants him alive.”

I shook my head. “Neil,” I looked into his eyes, “are they hunting us, or are we chasing them?”

“That’s not important anymore. If we're still standing by the time everything ends, I’ll tell you.”

I contemplated. “This me from the future, do you love him?” I originally didn’t want to ask. 

“...I was once the apple of his eye,” Neil murmured as if he was in a dream. This concluding remark sounded like it belonged to the past, not the future. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So now we finally get to know some of the answers. Just _some_ though.
> 
> I don't know about you guys, but the last line kinda broke my heart. sob sob


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you [@yan_zi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yan_zi/pseuds/yan_zi) for beta'ing!
> 
> Happy 2021, everyone!

To call Sator’s boat a yacht would’ve been an understatement. That thing was a fortress. We were in one of its anechoic chambers, outside the window was the ocean. It was my first time seeing another anechoic chamber comparable to the London Tower, except there were no iron railings or uneven ashlers. The noise had been canceled, the temperature was controlled, and scents were blocked. In such a place, there was nothing else a sentinel could ask for.

“What do you know about this sentinel?” Sator asked.

“I know he killed Priya and plans to kill you.”

“Plans?” Sator humphed, “He already tried.”

“When?”

“A week ago, in Leipzig, but I’m someone hard to kill. You said you know how to find him.”

“I only have the clue.”

“What clue?”

“You, Priya, and eight others have signed an agreement. Every name on it is his target. I’m chasing after the clue, not the man. I want my bounty. My goal is to find that sentinel, dead or alive.”

“You’d like me to keep him alive.”

“Let me put it this way, if he tries to kill you again,” I chose my words carefully, “I’d like you to hand him to me.”

Sator neither agreed nor objected. 

“How much do you know,” he said, “about this agreement?”

“I only know ten people have sworn to keep the existence of Tenet a secret,” I subtly hesitated, “But I don’t know what Tenet is.”

“So,” the Russian arms trafficker was not swayed, “not much. I haven’t heard anything of value from you.”

I understood what he was implying, which somewhat surprised me. “You knew he came for the agreement?”

“I don’t just sit and wait,” Sator monotoned. His expression was deeply disturbing.

“Collecting guides is just a cover-up,” I subconsciously said, “you are actually collecting the rest of the names on the agreement.”

“And I’m already done,” Sator arrogantly interrupted me. “They are locked up at my place, which is very safe. I’m the sentinel’s last stop, and I will make sure to bury his body. He will go after them because he needs to ensure their deaths, and that will lead him to his death. Look, he made a mistake: the first time he took me by surprise, but the second time he will be digging his own grave.”

I shrugged, bringing up my doubt, “If you already have everything you need, why invite me here?”

“How stupid do you think I am?” Sator thumped the desk with both hands, ripping off his civilized mask within an instant and growling at me, “What I want is that agreement! —— I know you have it, don’t you dare lie to me! Give me the agreement, then I might consider giving you that sentinel.”

“Might?” I sharply retorted.

“And maybe spare your guide’s life,” Sator grimly added to his last sentence. “You shouldn’t have brought him onto this boat.”

I didn’t like his tone even though the last thing he said was true. I took a while to think, intentionally ignoring his existence. 

“How do I know if they really are in your hands?” I said, “Give me a name and prove to me you’ve got him.”

“Michael Crosby,” Sator didn’t even look up, “and the next answer will be a bullet in your head.”

I stared at him. I could hear my own breaths. Sator stood up and left the table, leaving his empty glass behind. 

“I’ll give you one more day,” I heard him say, “Don’t try to leave this yacht or your guide won’t like what’s gonna happen. Oh, that’s right, we will be branding a new batch of guides tonight, maybe you’d be interested. That’s dinner, and you are invited.”

He slammed the door.

I stood by the window in my cabin, looking at the deck through the curved glass. Was entrusting all hope on my future self now an act of desperation? I had one last card, Sator didn’t know that sentinel was me from the future. He also didn’t know the inextricable connection between Neil, me, and that sentinel. 

Oslo’s nebulous light at night made me suddenly want to give everything up. What did I really hope to find at the end of this journey? A thought sparked in my head: _if I survive, I’ll find the other Neil who knows nothing about this yet and keep him away from this life._

Someone knocked. I turned around and saw Neil’s face. The new adventure ignited flickers of light in his eyes.

“How’d it go?”

I concisely summarized it for him. “He wants the agreement,” I frankly said, “In exchange, he will spare our lives—everyone else on that agreement is in his hands, which is bad news. But the good news is, I believe I know where they are.”

“Where he locks up guides.”

I nodded. 

“One more thing,” I pretended I just remembered it, “there’s a performance of remarking guides tonight—and we are invited.” 

That was all I said, no euphemisms or comments, yet Neil sighed, then frowned at me.

“Oslo, freeport,” his thoughts drifted, “these thoughts have been spinning in his brain. I think he might have locked the guides up here, not in Eastern Europe or Central Asia or wherever everyone thought. That’s why he had to come here and invited us to come with. Once he gets his hands on the agreement, he can get rid of that sentinel at the same time.”

I tilted my head and looked at him, “How well do you know my future self, will he go? Even if he knows it’s a trap?”

“Based on how well I know him,” Neil looked at me with disapproval, “you should be worrying about yourself. Don’t ask me questions like this again.”

I turned around and fixed my eyes on his face. He had never gone into detail about that night in Istanbul. It was a wound that I wasn’t allowed to touch. Every time it was mentioned, his words would be choked to syllables; his eyes would reveal a sense of distance that worried me. It was as if the knife he used to cut himself was still tormenting him until today. 

From the limited words I gathered, I could imagine how they kicked the door open and seized him while he turned around with blood gushing down his neck and laughed. He would probably rather die than tell me about how they interrogated him, so I felt no need to ask. His imprisonment lasted forever inside a windowless prison cell. But at least they sewed up his wound, which he spoke of like it was nothing. 

The surgery was another interrogation. They didn’t give any anesthetic to him, thinking it would break him, but of course, they failed. Neil didn’t tell me how he endured that surgery or how he escaped. He just said “all that has passed”.

At Inverness, the escaped guide caught a ride. After tons of effort, he arrived at the Eilean Donan Castle. There was an abandoned turnstile in that place, which he used to return to the past. 

In a lighthouse, he took some time to rest and prepare—examined his wound, observed the schedules of Rosetta’s cargo ships, recorded down the ships’ routes and coordinates, and recovered his strength. However, the most insufferable thing was the loneliness, as well as the sequela of gland removal—Neil said the remnant illusion of bonding heat was worse than death. His way of dealing with it was endurance and the drugs Rosetta’s interrogators gave him before his escape. He circled that date on the calendar. 

On that day, a speedboat arrived at the lighthouse. The sea sprays it splashed let him know that he had finally reached the destination of his trudge. He walked out of the lighthouse, got on the boat, and told the sentinel he met that he was sent by Rosetta. 

That was the whole story.

He told me all this with a tranquil tone as if he was stating mere facts, but his eyes were begging me not to delve deeper. He was telling the story of how we met, but the way he described it was like an inevitable death that he had to face. 

I remembered that night: when I docked the speedboat, a drunkard was crying on the pier. So I said to the Rosetta guide, “welcome back to this world”—it was meant to be a dumb joke to break the ice when meeting someone new, but he just looked at me. In New York, when Neil recounted that scene, I felt my heartstrings snap—I recalled the look in his eyes that night, along with the cries that echoed across the pier. 

Strangely, as the scene from my memory melted away, I understood how I felt about this guide. It came at the wrong time and the wrong place, in a cramped hotel room, with a half bottle of cheap booze between us. If I told Neil that I had fallen in love with him, how would he have responded?

 _That’s too bad for you_ , maybe he would say, _because I’ve burned out all my love on your future self._

I avoided meeting his gaze and changed the topic. 

“We could ask to transfer the agreement somewhere else—” I hesitated for a second, “—he’s not gonna risk authenticating it here. To do that, he has to have another person who signed it present. Let Sator take us to where he locks up the guides, what do you think?”

Neil immediately objected, he reacted severely, “That’s serving their location on a plate to the other you.”

“You think so?”

“Sator wants us here because he can use us to lure that sentinel. Taking us there is part of the plan,” Neil explained, “this future you, we will clash with him sooner or later. I just hope you are prepared—he might be different from what you imagined.” He seemed like he still had things to say, but his insipid tone was replaced by the disguise of a smile. I noticed his face had become tinged with red. He looked somewhat wretched. 

Neil took a while to slowly inhale. I walked to his side. He raised a hand to block me, showing me that waxed smile he used whenever he wanted to brush me off.

“My same old problem,” he actually managed to smile, “Although I don’t have the gland anymore, I still get bonding heat symptoms. It’s an illusion...like an amputee thinks he still has toes. The doctor said it’s neurological, but Ives brought him. I guess Ives made him lie. That guy said it’s curable.”

My expression must have changed because his smile froze.

“What’s wrong?” he turned his head toward me, a trace of nervousness hidden in his gentle voice.

“Help me find that sentinel,” although I did eagerly say the words, there was no sense of victory in my heart, “I’ll help you break away from him and set you free; we’ll go somewhere else, no more towers, no more guide houses, you don’t ever have to be chained by bonding again.”

That was the closest I had ever gotten to begging anyone, but Neil quickly got out of it. His pretense of composure remained, but his cheeks were blushing. He was a little hurt by my words. 

“I didn’t come back to seek salvation,” he said.

 _That’s the point, isn’t it?_ I couldn’t help thinking that...but my mouth had its own will, “Then what did you come back for?”

He stubbornly refused to answer, his breathing giving away his anger.

I cornered him to the door, tenderly kissing him. My lips traced his jawline to brush against his newly grown stubble, then finally sealed over his lips. I didn’t rush to invade, I retreated instead, panting against his lips. He impatiently closed in, the hand that was blocking me earlier was now grasping my arm. 

The warmth of each other’s body made both of us suck in a breath of air. I chased the gasps he uttered between my lips, firmly pinning him to the door. I pulled his collar loose to aggressively kiss that scar, making him arch his back and cry out, his voice husky and longing.

He held onto my shoulders, enduring as I gnawed on his scar next. I didn’t even have an idea of what to do next, all I had were instincts and actions. Pushing the guide’s knees apart, I let him hang his calf over the crook of my arm and held him up against the door. All my actions were instinctive. 

When he was eagerly throwing himself at me, we heard a sound. We were still grappling as if we both hadn’t heard the knock on the door, but it came again, this time even clearer.

“Mr. Rosario?” It was Sator’s hatchet man. “Dinner is ready. He invites you to the deck.”

I stopped moving and looked into Neil’s eyes. Then I suddenly grew sober. His face was crimson, his lips glistening like awaiting for something more wanton. I was panting, working hard to regain my thoughts while Neil didn’t look any better off.

He ended up regaining sanity first—but it made him more embarrassed. I opened my mouth trying to explain myself, but Neil had already stumbled out of my embrace. He was now buttoning his shirt with trembling fingers. Before I could even apologize, he picked up his scarf from the ground and glided out of the door, leaving me with nothing else to do but stare at myself in the mirror. He took away all his things like nothing had ever happened, but he did forget his deflector. I picked up the small white device and put it in my pocket.

Humming a tune, I strode onto the deck in a new outfit and my carelessly presumptuous disguise. Sator noticed me instantly. When I walked past Neil, I purposely gave him a kiss then sat down next to him. 

The deck was decorated like summer in Rome with waiters in uniforms attending aside. Neil acted like he wasn’t affected by what just happened, but a button at his collar was left undone, and a pretty pink remained on his cheeks. When I sat down, he neither looked at me nor said anything, but I noticed the subtle heaviness in his breaths and the obvious stiffness in his smiles. I intentionally extended my legs, brushed past his toes with the edge of my leather shoe, and then stopped there. He definitely sensed it since he visibly gulped. 

“If you want to remark your guide,” Sator snorted across the table, “I could teach you a few ways.”

“No, there’s no need for that,” I grinned from ear to ear, unfolding the napkin, “I like to have it my way.” (Neil shook his head and grumbled “oh God!”, but I pretended like I didn’t hear him. He kicked me under the table cloth.)

“Then,” Sator sneered like a wolf, “I guess you wouldn’t be so interested in the upcoming performance?”

“What kind of a performance?”

“Volkov,” the big guy went around my chair and walked out of the room, Sator continued his blunt explanation, “I have a collectible delivered from Tallinn. When it comes to appraising products, I only trust in myself—I hope you wouldn’t mind me remarking a guide during dinner since they’re already below the deck. If your guide can’t stand it in a moment, he can gag himself with this.” Sator crumpled his napkin into a ball and threw it across the table. That lump of white cloth landed in front of Neil.

Bursting with anger, I was about to spring up from my seat when Neil grabbed my hand. I sat back down. Neil put down his cutlery, leisurely sipped some wine, and then took out something from his pocket. It was a lighter. Before I could figure out his intention, he had already flicked the wheel and lit the napkin’s corner. The instant the flame kindled triggered a round of shrieks, but also ignited Sator’s eyes. Neil calmly watched until it burned out, and Sator’s threatening eyes swung back to me.

“Maybe you should tell him that his life is still on the line.”

“Maybe I should tell you,” I narrowed my eyes, “your life is also at stake.”

Sator croaked out a long, mirthless laugh. Volkov was back with a person over his shoulder. The captive’s head was covered, so I couldn’t see his face. My senses were thwarted near him, like bumping into a wall. There was no doubt that he was a trained guide as he concealed his empathic waves. Failing to collect any outputs from him, I steered my attention to what he wore—on his backpack hung a weird circular pendant; it looked like a charm. He was dressed like a soldier, but other than that, I couldn’t deduct anything else. Volkov put him on the floor, and all of a sudden, Neil became disturbed. I met Sator’s eyes and saw the storm brewing within them. I instinctively perceived that _something_ was going to happen.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [PLEASE READ]Trigger Warnings: dub-con elements(might read like non-con), torture/attempt to torture, mention of human trafficking  
> I wrote a TDLR at the end LOL. If the triggers are too much for you, please skip this chapter or just read the TDLR. 
> 
> Beta'ed by [@yan_zi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yan_zi/pseuds/yan_zi) <333

Neil had been behaving strangely since the second that guide awoke. His steady heart skipped a beat, and his adrenaline level rose. Before this, even though he was sitting together with me at the table, he made himself more or less a spectator. His shield was seamless, not even a fly could squeeze in. However, after they brought the guide here, his heartbeats had been palpitating, and his muscles tautened. I sensed his rapidly beating pulse and the scent of sweat in the air. His scar was violently twitching. The pulse on his neck bulged in an intense jump, then he recovered his calm and focus. I noticed a subtle sigh that he bit off halfway, followed by an abrupt halt of his breath.

He knew this guide.

I returned my gaze to that guide. He was a man of similar height and weight as Neil. It was impossible to tell the outline of his face since it was covered. I could sense his pheromone, which was mingled with the scent of his blood. If I described Neil’s scent as mild and soft, then this guide’s was rather spicy and rich. It was a scent of vetiver neutralized by shaving cream and seawater. It wasn’t unfathomable, but rather difficult to define. 

Volkov pressed the guide to the ground, cutting his uniform with a dagger. The fabric broke open under the blade, exposing his scent gland. With every part of his body fully covered in uniform except for his most vital part, he looked even more fragile than before. He didn’t look like a soldier but rather a defenseless person. I initially didn’t want to be invested in the show at all, but the second his neck was exposed, I was petrified.

He had the same scar as Neil.

“The local armed force found him,” Sator’s face revealed no trace of a smile, “Those guys loot just about everything. Two guides walked out of the turnstile, but they only caught one. Kerrera is their hub. They got a local sentinel there just to inspect goods for them—and turned out he has no glands. So they sold him at a shockingly low price. My art agent found him at a private market in Mumbai, thought I’d be interested—which he guessed right. So, this guide came from the future, do you know him?”

“Hardly.” It took all my strength to squeeze this word out.

“Very good,” Sator said, “if so, you wouldn’t mind me remarking him?”

“Does that matter? Do I know him?”

“Not to me at all, but your guide might think differently.”

I glanced at Neil. Other than a tiny nervous simper, he showed nothing atypical. But the breathing of the captive guide clearly sped up. Seemed like I just got dragged into a new game, and everyone present knew the rules except for me. _So fun._

I looked back at Sator, deliberately procrastinating my answer.

“So,” I said, “they’re the same person, so what? Is this also illegal?”

Sator shook his head in disdain. “You’re more of an idiot than I imagined,” he said with his heavily accented English, “your guide is part of an intricate plan. Two guides walked out from the turnstile, one has been in charge of monitoring you, the other has returned to the sentinel you’re after and reported your every move to him—that’s why he was always a step ahead of you. You think you’re chasing him? Moron, he’s hunting you. He set a trap, and you are walking right into it.”

“A temporal pincer pursuit.”

“Looks like you’re not a complete idiot.”

I noticed that Neil was staring at me. I felt strange because he didn’t say anything to Sator’s accusations. He just put his hands in his pockets and leaned back without a hurry. The nervous little smile was gone. It took me two seconds to realize that he didn’t even care to break the silence. 

“That’s not true,” I lamely responded, “I trust my guide.”

Sator impatiently snorted as though I said some rubbish. “You’re wasting my time. This deal can’t proceed as long as you have your guide with you. Want me to take you to where I keep my guides? Want to find that sentinel and get Rosetta’s bounty? Then abandon this guide. I don’t trust him and whoever sent him.”

“I can’t do that,” I was enraged, “I would never abandon my guide.”

“Abandon him or remark him. Otherwise, everything we talked about doesn’t count. I can tell you where I locked them up — but you have to come alone. Take the agreement with you, not the guide, do you understand? You give me the agreement, and I give you the sentinel, then you can go report back to the clowns at the base.”

“I told you I don’t work for the sentinel base.” Despite it having already lost its meaning, I still repeated that line.

“I heard you. Next time, lie better.” Sator scorned, “Now, make a decision.”

_ Decision? _ I thought.  _ It was virtually a gamble _ .

“This...remarking,” I cleared my throat and pulled myself together, “how is it normally done?”

“Volkov will show you,” Sator replied.

Neil was drenched in sweat. The hair on his forehead was wet, making him seem lost. His blue eyes grew light, and his hands were clenched inside his pockets. The resonance he projected at me was so sharp that my head began to hurt. Our eyes met, and although he showed no signs of anxiousness, I could tell he was on the edge of his limit. The way his pain was recurring was close to pitiful. Waves after waves of pain exploded behind my eyes. I suddenly realized the one who made him hopeless was not me, or Volkov, or that captive, but someone not even present. A trace of doubt swayed in my heart,  _ maybe Sator was right. _

But I immediately threw that thought out. There were other things for me to be concerned about. Volkov seized that guide and pinned him to the ground. I could guess what I was about to witness, but I could not even intervene. 

Volkov was gruff like a bull. Whatever he wanted, he could get. Not to mention he was dealing with a guide trapped in the bonding heat illusion. I heard the sound of fabric tearing. The guide was writhing on the floor as Volkov ripped off the clothes on his lower body and pounced on his back. The guide cried out trembling. If I could see his face, it must have been the same as Neil’s, glistening with sweat. Volkov yanked the guide’s head back and sank his teeth into where the guide’s gland would have been. Beside me, a violent shudder ran down Neil’s spine. And as for Sator, there wasn’t even a ripple in his eyes. 

I forced myself to bear it—I bore it when Volkov threw the guide face down to the floor and tore his clothes open. I bore it when his thighs were brutally pried apart and someone else’s fingers were ruthlessly twisting inside of him. I wished I could stop thinking he was Neil and see him as a stranger. When Volkov’s thick cock slammed into him, a shallow whimper came out from his mouth. His nails scratched against the cleaned floor, and I smelled the scent of blood. Volkov clung to the guide’s back, lewdly tracing the scar with his tongue. The brusque sentinel’s body crouched over him. Volkov clutched the guide’s pelvis, thrusting his hips to fuck into him. All that was not the most unbearable part, all the ways to humiliate—grabbing him by his hair, squeezing his throat, pinning him down with bodyweight, gnawing on his scar, and slapping his face—I endured watching them all. But it broke me when Volkov dropped sweat on his body and came inside of him. The sentinel drove to the hilt and clasped so tight, opening up his sex object so cruelly that I thought he was going to snap the guide in two. 

That was the most excruciating part.  If only I had a choice, I hoped I could have stepped in.

When all this ended, was there any audience left standing? Neil huddled in his chair, and his face was wet. A blast of pain shot through my consciousness like a bullet, then died down.  _ Sit back, keep watching the show.  _ I knew Neil would have agreed to that, which was strategically correct—but personally, it devastated his feelings. 

For a while, that guide showed no movements, just lying there. When Volkov’s cock slid out of him, he swallowed a distressful cry. 

I propped up my chin and yawned, pretending as though I was bored of it. However, the curve of Sator’s mouth told me that he read me like a book. 

Only when that sentinel came back with tools did I realize the performance was not yet over.

“It’s just a branding iron,” Sator shrugged, “there are many ways to remark guides, but this one’s my favorite—we’ll sew him up after he’s branded, and he’ll be like new, except he won’t be able to run away again.”

“Sew him up,” I restrained my urge to punch him in the face, “you mean you’re gonna cut him open first?”

“I know what I said,” Sator sounded like he was half asleep, “we have already wasted so much time—Volkov.”

I heard the flicker of a dagger.  _ Why was Neil smiling? I’ve seen him smile like this before, but when was it? _ I was apprehensive. I could no longer trust in what I had been telling myself—which was to hold still. I had to take this risk. 

“Stop,” I said, “I think Volkov has had enough fun today, tell him to fuck off, okay? Let me think—first of all, you have to let him go,” I pointed my thumb to that guide, “Second, I will never abandon my guide. If anything happens to Neil, I will expose the agreement to the public, then you won’t be getting anything, do you understand?”

“Did you not hear a bloody word I just said?” Sator lunged up, furiously growling at me.

“I did,” I coldly replied, “but I’m willing to take the risk.”

Just as Sator and I confronted each other hostilely like how two sentinels would, the guide we had forgotten about struggled to his feet with uncontrollable coughs. 

“Kill him,” Sator ordered.

Volkov turned to the guide with a hand reaching for his gun. 

Then something strange happened. Volkov began to hesitate. The look on his face changed like he was enchanted. The resonance of that guide stroked up his face like a hand, summoning his instincts. In the eyes of this sentinel, the trembling, adrenaline-upsurging guide was as eye-catching as a Christmas tree with pheromones overflowing out of him. It would have been too late even if Volkov shut off his sense of smell now. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Sator barked, “Kill him!”

Volkov halted his steps, raising the gun in his hand.

“No!” I heard myself shout. 

Cold sweat seeping out from my face, I thought this still unbonded sentinel would pull the trigger in the next second.

But the buff sentinel turned around and hid the guide behind him. The gun in his hand was not aiming at the captive but at Sator and me. 

“I am his sentinel.” The buff Volkov said.

I couldn’t hold back my laughter. 

“This show’s more exciting than expected,” I said.

Sator didn’t pay attention to me. He was solely focused on the gun pointing at him, as well as the guide staggering behind Volkov. 

“Listen carefully to me,” Sator lowered his voice, hissing at that sentinel, “you let a dark guide control your brain, you useless piece of crap! If you take another step, I swear I will shove your balls down your throat.”

However, Volkov didn’t waver. He blankly stared ahead. 

“I am his sentinel,” he robotically repeated. He rigidly stood before the guide, using his body as a protective shield. I was sure if something happened to that guide, Volkov would shoot Sator immediately. 

Sator stood still with anger burning in his eyes. Two sentinels quietly closed in on Volkov from behind. He frustratedly howled as they seized him. They trussed his hands behind his back, but convinced that he was bonded, the hypnotized sentinel showed irresistible strength. He flung off one of them, aimed the gun, and pulled the trigger before the other one even had time to react.

Knitting my brows, I used the wind speed and the resistance when the bullet dashed out of the barrel to calculate the angle it would hit. Without further thought, I pushed Sator to the ground, landing on top of him. It saved his life but a stifled groan came out of me as I landed. The bullet was diverted by my deflector and shot into my right arm. 

The pheromones of the guide left an enthralling arc in the air that curved down to the surface of the sea. Gasping for air, I raised my head and caught a glimpse of the guide dashing to the railings and plunging into the sea. When I rushed to the edge, the black silhouette had already disappeared beneath the water. 

At the same second, the hypnosis on Volkov’s face faded. He turned around confused, sniffing the air. Sator crawled back to his feet cursing, then killed that sentinel with one shot. His second move was to dart towards Neil. When I turned around from the railings, Sator’s spirit guide, a lioness, had leaped on top of the table, baring her teeth and roaring at Neil. I stepped over that sentinel’s dead body, took off the deflector that had a hole burned through the middle, and approached Sator from the side, silently deterring him from laying a finger on Neil. 

He cast me a mocking glance.

“Now you know for sure that your guide is a Rosetta-trained spy,” Sator unbuckled his deflector and pulled it off his wrist, dismissively tossing it to the ground, “He was sent here to kill me, and he almost succeeded. How’s your arm?”

I shrugged. Maybe I should’ve admired Neil: he never moved a step during the chaos. One of his legs was leisurely crossed over the other, he dangled one foot in the air and fumbled the lighter between his fingers. Only one thing affected his composure—when his eyes swayed past my wound, he inhaled sharply, but he didn’t make it obvious. 

Sator’s lioness licked her paws and peered at me.

“Very good, but my deflector is definitely dead,” I said, cautious of her imperious eyes and threatening vibe—so fitting as Sator’s spirit guide. “If you want to pay me back, then leave him alone. I need a guide now more than ever.”

I placed my hand on Neil’s shoulder, compelling the lioness to retreat. She arched her back and howled a long roar, then jumped down the table and disappeared.

“You thought I’d kill him?” Sator laughed, “No one shot at me. As for this guide, you can keep him — if you still trust him. Oh, this is your down payment,” he raised his chin, and his men lifted Volkov’s dead body and dumped it next to my feet. I had already gotten used to his manners, but Neil’s face turned somewhat pale. 

“Your guide looks extra gorgeous tonight,” Sator intriguingly studied Neil’s face, “the other him has probably reported back by now—what would he tell that sentinel? Take a guess? I’ve always had an accurate intuition of the future. Your guide is going to be a burden.”

Neil didn’t react. Sator arrogantly strode out with the lioness at his heels. Who would have thought that when the dinner ended, Neil would have been the only one sitting at ease on his seat? I looked at him, and he gently gazed back with a slightly careless attitude. I now had a new understanding of him, the kind you would only feel toward your comrades or evenly matched competitors. 

“How long did the other you have his eyes on that sentinel? Days? Weeks?” I asked, not trying to hide my curiosity. “Seducing him is also part of the plan, right? To make him come in contact with as much pheromone as possible? Who taught you this kind of strategy?”

“You really want to know?” he whispered.

I nodded.

“You did,” he answered.

I was left speechless. 

After a long time, I let out a deep sigh. I took out the white deflector Neil had left behind in my room, although there was no need to call it a deflector anymore—this little thing cleverly prevented me from going crazy as Volkov did.

“I believe we need to talk,” I huffed.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TDLR: The guide they brought in had the same scar as Neil. Sator said there were two Neils who inverted back to the present, one was in charge of monitoring Protag, and the other(the one they brought in) reported back to the future Protag; hence, he accused Neil of spying on Protag and want him to abandon Neil. Protag said he chose to trust Neil. Then Sator ordered Volkov to remark the guide they brought in. Protag eventually intervened. Just as Protag and Sator were arguing, the guide used his dark guide ability to hypnotize Volkov to kill Sator. Protag pushed Sator so he didn't die. The guide dived into the ocean and escaped. Sator shot Volkov died.  
> Neil had been sitting in his seat throughout the entire chaos. Protag asked Neil how long had the other Neil been planning this, and who taught him this kind of strategy. Neil said, "You did."
> 
> OKAY PHEW. It's okay if you're confused. We'll get a lot more answers in the next chapter.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big shoutout again to my amazing friend, [@yan_zi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yan_zi/pseuds/yan_zi), for beta'ing!

Ten minutes later, I was sitting by the window in the dining room of Andrei Sator’s yacht, gloomily sipping my diet coke. Having changed his shirt and showered, Neil was in a slightly better spirit. He put on his pinstripe shawl lapel blazer and ordered a vodka tonic. He crossed his legs in my direction, nonchalantly dangling one of his amber brogue shoes.

“You’re injured.”

“No big deal. Volkov had a sturdy build but not the most decent marksmanship.”

The joke added some amiability to the one who heard it. He was looking at me with a gentle curve on his lips. I remembered that he hadn’t even spoken more than three times on the deck, but once we were here, he kept trying to tease me into talking. He always spoke to me like that with a tender annoyance, his voice as hazy as the wreathing vapor in a cigar lounge. He leaned in to check my wound, but I wasn’t used to this ardency, so I dodged. 

I asked before he could show me a dejected smile, “What?”

“It was you who said we need to talk,” Neil said with weak blame, “but until now, we still haven’t started ‘the talk’.”

“I just haven’t decided how to begin.”

“Come on, Ellis,” a trace of a shallow smile lingered on Neil’s face, “There’s only so many ways to say goodbye.”

I was already worn out and then hurt by his words. For a moment, I couldn't make out a sound from my mouth. 

When Neil came near my wound, I sensed the faint smell of a scent neutralizer that concealed his natural scent. It was the first time he used it since we came on the yacht, perhaps he didn’t want to stimulate my numb nerves any further. But in that pair of unperturbed, eternally contemplative eyes was an obvious fact: the fact that he already knew what I was about to say, and that made me reluctant to speak. I don’t like to fall for traps, but this guide always made me feel like that. Even the location I chose to have this conversation was probably foreseen by him.

Rain began to mist the sea. The entire dining room was enfolded in the rustle of the rain. Outside the window was pitch darkness since the yacht’s light couldn’t shine very far. I gave myself enough time to weave through my memory, like walking out from a lush pine forest. 

“He—” I didn’t know how to address the other person. I eventually said, “—the other you, how is he now?” 

“Alive,” Neil answered tersely. “A reinforcement boat will send him ashore. But you have other things you want to ask about.”

“I’m not sure if I should ask if you don’t want to tell me.”

“Telling you everything,” Neil said, “would make you a threat in the eyes of your employers.”

“In my employers’ eyes, I’m already a threat. I have the right to know what I’m dying for.”

It was Neil who fell into hesitation this time. I could understand his worries, but it didn’t mean I could understand his decision. Since I had already chosen such a place to have this conversation, I had made it clear that I wanted a frank and sincere negotiation. But the moment just before I was ready to confront him, I felt dull and pointless. The victory came too early because Neil was different from usual—he dealt with me as cunningly as always, but he raised the white flag too soon.

“I can tell you,” Neil’s tone was unusually brisk. “In fact, I’ve already said it all.”

Then there was a period of silence as though he didn’t want to speak anymore. 

“Maybe just let me do the asking,” I seized the opportunity, “after you went through the turnstile and came to the past, have you ever cared about where the other you went? Did you know he was captured?”

Neil sucked his teeth and shook his head as if he was mocking my ridiculous question. “Didn’t have time to worry about things like that,” he said.

“So,” I immediately continued after he replied, “you’ve never contacted him? Ever since the turnstile? ”

“Didn’t need to contact him, our empathic resonance established telepathy.”

“What does that mean?”

“We’re the same person with the same goal. He would act according to his judgment and I would act based on mine. We are two sides of the same form, interconnecting,” he made a hand holding gesture with his slender fingers tightly interlocked, presenting them to me, “There was no way for me to shut him off—his every move would affect me, just like what happened on the deck.”

“And throughout this entire trip,” I said, “you’ve never thought about introducing his existence to me?”

Neil drank some of his vodka tonic and made a funny face. He stuck out his tongue and licked his bottom lip in a circular motion. 

“That’s not practical,” he pointed out, “You’re talking about something you don’t even believe in. If you were me, you also wouldn’t tell his existence to anyone because it’s too risky. Telling you would only make you trust me less because, from your perspective, the existence of another me doubles the risk of betrayal. You would have cudgeled your brains to make me lure him here, or make me kill him. Regardless of the outcome, I’m certain it wouldn’t have been what you wanted. And, it would have strained you.”

“If you care this much about me,” I didn’t allow him more time to build upon his suppositions, “then you certainly also left this in my room on purpose?” I pushed the white deflector in front of him. “I was supposed to have ‘accidentally’ picked it up, then give it back to you, right? The interesting thing is I can’t figure out how you knew every single thing that was going to happen on the deck? You knew the other you was going to show up, you also knew he was going to diffuse pheromones, you even knew that other than Volkov, I was the only one who would most likely be impacted by it—because we were making out just half an hour before. How did you know all that?”

“Is that important?” he blinked and didn’t actually brush me off with a smile, “It all worked out, shouldn’t that be the only important thing?”

“So you’re saying,” I laughed in self-ridicule, “you’re not gonna tell me.”

The atmosphere across the entire dining room was stagnant. Other than us, no one else was here. I was sitting right under a bright lightbulb, so Neil could see me very clearly. But when I looked at him, other than the remnant of his smile, I only saw one of his neat, slender hands pressing down his glass. The buttonhole on his pinstripe shirt was frayed, its edge protruding out, which he carelessly pressed on the table. 

“I don’t want you to feel troubled,” Neil said courteously.

That was his way of refusing to answer my question. But this time, I was fed up with his empty words. I remembered what I wanted to say, which I found surprising that I hadn’t blurted it out earlier. 

_ No,  _ I thought to myself as I stared at his face _ , you know why. It’s because of what the other you did to him. It’s because you feel like you owe him. Whenever he shied away from the topic like this, whenever he dropped one of his shoulders while lifting the other, implicating the scar beneath his cream shirt, you just can’t make yourself be harsh on him.  _

He calmly gazed at me, then asked for more alcohol. For some reason, I thought he was afraid of what I was about to say. The waiter came and served a glass of pink gin. Neil took a sip and gave me an explanatory smile.

“Now you can say you’ve seen too much,” he said.

“Right,” I yielded, “tell me something else. Does that type of thing occur often?”

“Not as often as you think,” he hesitated, “in the past—when I still had my gland, it was easier.”

Although I hadn't met my future self, I already had developed the ability to discern him. Anything cruel, unsympathetic, or dangerous would show signs of his involvement. As for the things relating to love, tolerance, and justice, you could tell he would stay away. Everything he touched would be left with some kind of suspicious signs, the same for how he abandoned this guide. I could even imagine how he trained the guides at Rosetta and then pushed them into the world—but I had thought too far ahead, Neil was already becoming anxious. His breathing became turbid—might be due to the gin he just swallowed, or maybe it was his self-defense mechanism. 

“Neil,” I deliberately calmed my face for the sake of comforting him, “have you been tipping him off? You know who I’m talking about.”

“Not your every move,” he whispered.

I understood what that implied. I glanced at his blushed neck and glistening face. “But you did tip him off.”

It took everything in him to show a nod. He acquiesced. 

“I’m still waiting for your explanation,” I tried again.

“I have nothing to explain. That’s right, I betrayed you, but I can’t tell you why yet.”

“Oh God,” I mumbled while shaking my head, not taking my eyes off him. “Relax. What did you expect? You thought I’d fall into your trap when you brought up your scent gland, then we’d go back down and fuck in my room? I’d ask you if you also felt it when Volkov humped that guide, and you’d guarantee me that I’m not like that sentinel at all? Did I guess right? We’ve known each other for so long, and that’s how you think of me? Don’t smile at me like that—my deflector might have a hole burned in it, but my head is still very clear. You think I’d still be alive if I slept with every guide who tempted me? You should set up your shield again, you’ll need it.” 

Neil licked his bottom lip out of habit, but his face was flushed. His elbows left the table as he leaned back in his chair. When he met my eyes, the smile remained on his face, but it was neurotically nervous. He scrambled to hold his ease together. 

“I’m very sorry.” My heart instantly softened.

“No, you are not sorry,” Neil calmly interrupted me. “Am I being interrogated?”

“Neil,” I aggravated my tone, “if they forced you to do it, you can tell me. Did they take someone hostage? Or did they get the goods on you? Did you reach some sort of agreement with them? Tell me because I need to know.”

His eyes looked like he had a lot to say, but his lips remained tightly shut. He smirked at what I said, then filled his face with cold rejection. I felt like I had been mocked, for a second, I was mad at myself, but there was no disdain in Neil’s eyes. His cheeks were softly blushing as though he was tipsy. He was twirling his wrists, fiddling with his index finger, as if he was giving me time to realize what a stupid thing I had done. Then, he took another sip of his gin.

“Do we have to talk about this on such a beautiful night?” His voice was light as a feather chasing after the shadow of happiness. 

“I’m afraid yes.”

“Then,” Neil inattentively made a gesture, his white shirt tightened at his waist, “no one threatened me. For all the years you’ve been in the profession, do you really still believe in that kind of excuse? Let’s keep it simple: I can’t specifically tell you what I’ve done, but I came to help you—since warning you to not take this job till now, I’ve always been on your side.”

“Always is a very heavy word,” I scorned.

His eyes darkened, a sense of guilt flashed across his face. “I know how you think of the other you,” he ended up only saying this.

I was already getting enough of it. I was sure I couldn’t get anything out of him. He was an expert at being interrogated, even though he didn’t look like it. Some people would muddle through your questions. Some would try to contend. Neil was the type that equivocated. He wouldn’t back off, but he also wouldn’t open up. He would quickly make you understand that you could only get a little tiny piece from him. Other than that, don’t even try. Perhaps his technique was also taught by my future self—being collected and emotionless was an easy job for guides. Continuing this would have been a pure waste of time.

“Since you tipped him off, I can’t let you stay,” I said, “Remember,  _ I  _ let you slip away. Those who hired me won’t be pleased, but they also can’t do anything. Your name will be in the news, but it will be quickly forgotten. They’ll think you’ve gone missing.”

Neil lit a cigarette and shot me a smile, “So you want me to leave now?”

“I don’t trust Sator’s men, I’ll escort you ashore,” I changed the topic. “We better get going now.”

As he stood up, he didn’t look unwilling, just slightly dispirited. I tried my best not to notice so that I didn’t risk changing my mind. Maybe Sator had told his men to turn a blind eye on us, they didn’t hinder us from getting on the speedboat, which worked in my favor: since everyone saw me leaving with my guide, when I returned alone, they would report our rupture to Sator.

Neil was in a better mood and spirit when he got onto the boat. 

“You idiot,” he shouted behind me amid the sea breeze, “you could’ve enjoyed a guide in bonding heat! You could’ve finished what Volkov didn’t get to!”

I didn’t know if he was speaking about having sex or remarking, or maybe both. 

After shouting, he chuckled for some reason, looking at me with his head leaned to the side. His scarf danced in the wind like an emerald butterfly. 

I caught one end of it and met his eyes, then all of a sudden, my heart was fiercely stung: inside that pair of eyes was the pain of being abandoned.

So I hardened my heart and told him that I had already thought it through, I didn’t like double dealers, especially those who leaked out secrets. He didn’t talk for once after hearing that. When we docked the boat, he leaped onto the pier first. 

He turned around, not even aware of the redness in his own eyes and the furrow between his brows.

“I’m not sure how to say goodbye,” I heard him say, “I’m not even your guide.” 

It sounded heartbreaking, but he was smiling.

I grabbed his shoulders, kissed him on his cheek and his scar, then pulled him into an embrace.

“You are now.”

After making this tasteless joke, I left him. I didn’t look back. Looking back would have only made it crueler—not to mention it wasn’t fair to him in the first place. 

The rain had stopped as the ocean waves undulated. When I powered on the speedboat to leave that place, I saw him still standing at the piers with his spirit guide at his feet. Her tail wrapped around his ankle, her face and outline receding into the darkness.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay calm, y'all. Neil will come back. 
> 
> Also, thank you guys for all the kudos and comments <3


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'ed by [@yan_zi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yan_zi/pseuds/yan_zi)

I called that number within thirty minutes of disembarking. Michael Crosby said it was my reinforcement as a last resort. I thought he said it just to give me an illusion of support—there was no real reinforcement. But now, I hoped so badly that the number belonged to a real person, even if it was a clown from Cotswold, just anyone I could talk to. I dialed that number and found Ives sitting in front of me.

“You’re sent by the base?”

“No one’s sent by the base,” Ives irritatedly said, “I’m your reinforcement. You don’t need to know anything else.”

“Did Neil tell you to come? How is he now? Ever since that night—since his escape—I haven’t seen him again.”

Ives guffawed, the tips of his beard shaking with his laughter. 

“Lies like that don’t work on me,” he said, “We both know Neil didn’t run away. Even if he did, it’s because you made him. He hasn’t contacted you, which is a good thing, it means he hasn’t been found. I didn’t come to help them get him, so get that load off your head? You better update me on the situation now.”

“I convinced Sator, he let me off the yacht,” I intentionally didn’t react to the intel he gave me, “We reached an initial agreement. I’ll go to Tallinn. Sator will wait for me there. I agreed to give him the agreement in exchange for that sentinel—our task is to ensure the success of the exchange, also to save the hostages.” 

“How can he be sure that sentinel will be in Tallinn that day?”

I knew he would ask that. “Sator’s planning on transferring hostages,” I replied tersely, “He’s getting them to the training ground at Stalsk 12—if that sentinel wants to do it, that would be his only chance. He has to do it before the hostages are transferred.”

“He told you all that?” Ives crossed his arms and shrugged.

“I saved him once,” I answered. “He doesn’t want me to bring a guide, which I agreed to as well.”

“Don’t be a hero.” Ives scoffed, “Just you and me, no guides, breaking into Sator’s lair? That’s suicide.”

“I’ll bring ample suppressants.”

“That’s still suicide. We don’t know how many men they got, or what kind of weapons they use,” Ives put on his experienced agent hat, shaking his head at my plan, “Plus the sentinel who you’re after, he might have half a dozens of guides behind his back.”

“You don’t have to get involved,” I ignored what he said, “I contacted you because Crosby said calling this number would help me get weapons and suppressants. You work for Rosetta, so it’s a piece of cake for you. The problem is, I can’t figure out why you wanna help me?”

Ives turned to the side, saying to the wolf pup at his feet, “He keeps saying nonsense, doesn’t he?”

The wolf pup lazily yawned, lifting a paw to scratch its ear. It crouched down as Ives comfortably extended his legs, looking up at me. 

“Neil thought you’d be in trouble, that’s why I’m here. He called for reinforcement the night he left Sator’s yacht. Wheeler has already left for Tallinn with a squad. He also said you’ll definitely go scout that place before meeting up with Sator. He said you want to sneak those guides out before the exchange because it’s too dangerous for them there—seems like he doesn’t know you too well after all.”

“No, he’s right,” I was astounded, “that’s what I was going to propose.”

“Um-hum,” Ives shook his head, “Cowboy shit. He said there’s someone who could help you.”

I guessed who he was talking about. But I couldn’t mouth out that name as if it carried tons of weight. 

“I don’t want to drag him into this now.”

“You’ve already dragged him in,” Ives bluntly said, “What else did you think you’ve been doing?”

 _How savage._ I surrendered. “When did you find out the Neil you knew was not the real Neil?”

“Have you seen his sequelae from gland resection?”

I shook my head.

“If you’ve seen him like that, you’d know he wasn’t the real Neil — a guide who completed training at Brixton wouldn’t have that kind of issue.”

I nodded, “So you covered for him.”

“Let’s talk about the issue at hand first.” Displeased, Ives changed the topic, “I’ll get you the manpower, weapons, and suppressants you need. I can still leverage Rosetta for that. I’ll go to Tallinn with you. Wheeler will be our reinforcement. Can’t help you with anything else though. If you want to sneak out those guides, you’ll need a go-between. Seems like you already have a candidate in mind.”

“Candidate? More like a last resort,” I grumbled since there was no need for formalities around Ives, he wouldn’t believe that anyways—which actually allowed me to speak my mind. “Where is the candidate Neil suggested right now?”

“I already told you,” Ives said.

There was a training school at Brixton. Everyone who hoped to become a guide one day had been there before. All these years, some of its graduates had transferred to the guide house to do administrative work. The small group of active members—those with peerages in their titles—had left long ago. What they needed was just the affirmation of a training school, so that they could step into some gilded positions at Cambridge or in the sentinel bases. As for those who actually wanted to become a guide, they had to fend for themselves. I hadn’t seen a single person from here successfully transfer to a mission squad. I saw quite a few of them on the golf course though. One time when Crosby mentioned the school, he believed rather than training them as guides, Brixton was actually training them to be clerics. His views also influenced mine. 

The Neil who returned from the future had never told me he once stayed here. Their matchmaker was rather happy to see me. I roughly described to him the candidate I wanted. He circled a few names in a thick roster book. And I pointed at one of them.

“Him?” the matchmaker awkwardly said.

“Is there an issue?”

“He was found by the sentinel search team in Tallinn, and he was already sixteen by that time, an epitome of bad manners. He only trusted his own mentality, always acted on instincts. He even tried to run away several times. The head of the search team was from Brixton. He believed in sentinel bases, so he handed him to us. But what could we do? The Tower didn’t want him, so he’s stuck with us. If you just need a guide to run errands, we can recommend him, but if it’s for serious matters for the base, I’m afraid he doesn’t quite fit.”

“Could it be that his spirit guide...” I purposely said, “...is flawed?”

“Not at all, sir,” he quickly answered.

_Well, seemed like he wasn’t going to tell me the truth._

“He will do,” I said, “I wish to talk with him first.”

“Of course,” the matchmaker closed the thick roster and nodded, “I’ll call him here, sir.”

“No need for that, I’ll go to him,” I politely said, “Where’s he at now?”

“Um...” he appeared to be embarrassed by the answer, “about that...”

I walked up the dirty stairs of Brixton and arrived at the topmost floor of a long-abandoned tower. A young man with messy hair huddled by the window. He looked like he hadn’t been sleeping in his room for many weeks. Between us was a locked iron security door, the chain on it had the thickness of a thumb. 

I explained why I came, but he didn’t display an excited face. He raked his hand through his hair, then buried his face in his book as if I told him a joke. Unlike others his age, he didn’t show the reverence they normally showed in front of superiors from the sentinel base. I didn’t understand why he didn’t want a comfortable flat but chose to nestle in a room with graffiti across the walls and iron bars on the window. 

I noticed that he was in a nightgown, sitting on the ground with legs crossed, using a wobbly saucer as his ashtray. He was completely submerged in his own thoughts, not even aware of my movements. Only when I had squeezed my hand between the iron bars in an attempt to pick the lock did he rashly chip in. 

“Need a hand?”

“Actually, yes,” I said somewhat surprised.

He smilingly reached out a hand, unlocking it with a few artful plucks. The iron door squeaked as it sprang inward, and he hopped away to dodge its attack—such a keen reflex. I stepped inside and looked around his chaotic hideout. Books were piled everywhere. Drawings of spirit guides hung on the walls. A persistent smell of Indian hookah diffused in the air. I instantly frowned at the terrible air quality. My opinion was written on my face, but he didn’t care at all. 

My first reaction was to walk to the window. I tested the old window, giving it a strong push, but it didn’t move a bit. Some rust dropped off, almost falling into my eyes. I uttered a curse and backed off. The young man was chuckling behind me. I turned my head around as he was looking my way. He groped inside the pocket of his blue nightgown for a while, finally pulling out a cigarette. He didn’t light it, instead, he leaned on the door staring at me.

“It won’t work,” he wasn’t reluctant to laugh at me, “that window has been stuck since a long time ago.”

“I can tell,” I grumpily replied, “Do you not have better places to go?”

He carelessly beamed. 

“At least you’re still here,” he casually continued to scoff, “the last sentinel hit his limit after five minutes. But his emotions weren’t as stable as yours. He also didn’t have as many secrets in his brain.”

“I like docile guides,” I snickered.

“No, you don’t,” he cast me a nonchalant glance. “You definitely got a job that’s stressing you out.”

After that, he spared none of his attention to me. He turned to the fireplace, pushed around with the poker, and clipped out a piece of sparking charcoal to light his cigarette. I cleared my throat. He turned around perplexed. The young man licked his bottom lip the same way the Neil I knew did as if he didn’t understand why I was still here.

“Lock the door back in its place when you leave, okay?” he abruptly requested, “I’m always playing hide and seek with the matchmaker—he’s the guy you saw downstairs. He thinks he has me locked up.”

That made me fail to hide my smile, “I came here to give you a job. My name’s Ellis. I’m from the sentinel base.”

He raked his hair again, then peered up at me squinting. “Someone already tried. I don’t want to be some sentinel’s eye candy or take care of a dying viscount in some nursing home—that’s the kind of thing you have for me, right? The job?”

“This one’s different,” I said, “It’s for a mission. From now on, you can be a real guide.”

“Why would you do that?” This Neil said, “You don’t even like me. And you certainly didn’t choose me for my ‘outstanding guide abilities’—I see, it’s because of my spirit guide. She’s not very similar to the others, and that’s not a joke.”

I laughed, “You’re very frank.”

“I’ll just tell you the truth,” he threw me a guileful wink, “All the teachers here think I’m hopeless.”

“Leave that concern to me. I am recruiting you, Neil. You better give me an exact answer.”

He peeked at me, hesitantly biting his lip, “Does that mean I can leave this place? You won’t be sending me back?”

“Yes, it means you don’t have to be here anymore,” bitterness swelled in my heart, “You are free.”

He sprang up, dropped the things in his hands, and ran to hug me. When he put his chin on my shoulder, my heart almost burst out of my chest, but maybe he didn’t notice. He muttered, “why didn’t you tell me sooner?”, looking up smiling at me. I let him pat my back before letting go of me as if we had already become old friends. 

It was him pacing around the room now. The possibility of leaving the place thrilled him. Then as if he suddenly thought of something, he froze and reluctantly glanced at me. I raised my eyebrows, and he blushed. 

“I hope this doesn’t mean I have to bond with you,” his words were candid and smooth, not a single hint of coyness in his voice, “You wouldn’t like it anyways. I’m quite a terrible bonding partner—I got zero experience in pleasing sentinels. All I do every day is think about physics, astronomy, and how to get out of here.”

“Oh, at least you’re close to reaching half of your goals.” I intended for it to sound ambiguous, and his eyes widened.

“No,” I couldn’t hold my laughter anymore, “you don’t need to bond with me.”

“Oh gosh,” a stubborn crease appeared between his brows, the blush on his cheeks grew even brighter. “You had me fooled for a second. Then what do I need to do? Sign a confidential agreement? Swear to never leak out your secrets? Just tell me.”

Another idea came to mind, and suddenly it was hard for me to breathe.

“None of that would be necessary—just give me your hands.”

“Hands?” He cast me a surprised look.

I went around behind him, and he anxiously gulped. He probably felt uncomfortable but was too awkward to push me away. I didn’t rush, just slowly channeling my emotions to him, making him understand that I didn’t mean any harm or to exploit him. 

His breathing gradually soothed. I moved even closer, almost clinging to his back. This time he didn’t struggle, he uncontrollably fluttered his eyes closed instead. 

“Go ahead,” I encouraged him, “you know what to do.”

He drew in a soft breath. His shoulder blades tensed up, then tentatively relaxed. He first folded one hand behind his back, then turned his head to look at me. After seeing my affirmative nod, he folded his other arm behind as well. I adjusted the position of his wrists, making him maintain the stance of presenting himself but with his wrists crossed. 

As if he suddenly understood, he lifted his crossed wrists, and somewhat anxiously held them at a certain height, posing a posture of subtle submission. I uncontrollably reached out to touch his hands, holding them with all my strength, then buried my head in the curve of his shoulder. My abrupt invasive movement startled him and elicited a whine out of him, but I didn’t let go. I allowed myself to inhale deeply, breathing him in. 

He was stiff all over, blinking his glassy eyes in a flurry. My lips were next to his gland—there wasn’t a single scar on it, which was so gratifying—he might have thought that I was about to kiss him, but I just held his trembling fingers up to my lips and pressed a gentle kiss on them, then I let him go. He turned around astonished, his teasing look disappearing once he saw my face.

“Is that all you need?” He was still quivering, yet his curiosity shined through as he tilted his head to the side like he wanted to get to the bottom of everything. This was him—maybe unrestrainable and nonconforming, but he was still the Neil I knew. At that moment, thousands of feelings overwhelmed me. 

“That’s all,” I said, taking the coat off the clothing rack, “Get your stuff. I’m taking you out of here.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A gentle reminder of what Neil said in Chapter 7:  
>  _“You are a horrible kisser,” he teased, “when you meet that Neil in the future, don’t kiss him like this — promise me.”_
> 
> The wrist kissing thing is just...it touched my soul, can't even describe how I feel with words...Hope I'm not the only one going crazy over this HAHAHA


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'ed by [@yan_zi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yan_zi/pseuds/yan_zi)

“Tell me,” the young man across the table said, “what do you need me to do?”

I still wasn’t very used to the overly straightforward conversation. But, it seemed to be this other Neil’s style. He was ingenuous and untethered, always jumping from one topic to the next when talking. Brixton didn’t smooth out his edges, instead, it made him a little cynical, which he believed he had perfectly concealed in front of me.

“I thought you’d want to rest for a few days,” I said.

“Why?” he pondered my words, “you just took me from Brixton to Bond Street, not Cap d'Agde.”

I laughed. I was pleased to still see someone being blunt in this world. I had assumed that no one was capable of it anymore. I briefly described the task I needed him for. He blinked his eyes and fell into silence. At first, I thought he was just being shy. Then immediately, as the silence dragged on, I was worried I was asking too much of him. No matter what, he was still untrained.

“So you’re saying,” he finally said, “that place is filled with captive guides.”

“That’s the assumption.”

“Assumption?” he repeated the word I used as if it was utterly ridiculous. 

“Assumption,” I nodded, “I need someone to ascertain the situation in there. Got any ideas?”

“Have you heard of the ‘respected doctor’ trick?” He smacked his fist on his other palm, his eyes sparkling. 

_Heard it a million times_ , I thought. But somehow everything became interesting when it was said by Neil. I even regained some degree of excitement for the job. So I played along.

“No,” I acted dumb, “What is that?”

“The security guys are sentinels. They can’t get suppressants inside the freeport, so they have to get them delivered. Adding a little ‘condiment’ to one sentinel’s food is all it would take to trigger his bonding heat. Next, the ‘respected doctor’ would enter the stage. ”

 _Clever_ , I thought, _but not thorough. Bold, but lacking precision on details._

Seeing me not respond, he tried to pry my emotions with his empathic ability. I deliberately sniffed my nose, and he immediately closed off his shield, pretending like nothing happened. I raised my eyebrows. He hastily carded his hair, appearing somewhat discouraged.

“You must have heard of countless plans like this.” He didn’t try to hide his dismay.

“It’s not bad,” I comforted him, “I’ve seen worse.”

“Really?”

“The issue is,” I gestured for him to calm his excitement, “a sentinel in unexpected bonding heat is more likely to pounce on some guides than to wait for your suppressants. It’s also difficult for you to control the amount of the drug since it requires high precision. The suppressants’ supplier, dealer, origin: all that could be traced down. Your plan is operable but there’re too many uncertainties—wanna know what’s the true problem? You didn’t consider the people.”

He looked at me doubtfully, “People?”

“People’s nature. Their instincts, weaknesses, and actions,” I briefly explained, “Brixton wouldn’t teach you all that. You have to learn it from experience. Remember, at crucial moments, the understanding of human nature can make you the winner.”

He hesitantly gnawed on his lip and shook his head, “I don’t understand.”

“Give it some time and you’ll understand,” I smiled to comfort him, “For a guide on his first mission, you’re already doing very well. Don’t worry, making mistakes now is better than making mistakes later. Any other ideas?”

He came up with a couple more for me to consider. I objected to some and pointed out flaws in the others, explaining potential areas of improvement one by one. Eventually, he gave up. He bent over the table and groaned, laying his head on one arm and peeking at me with grumbling eyes.

“You’re so hard to please.” I heard him say.

“Maybe I am,” I couldn’t disagree, “but this is a mission, being negligent on any minor details could get you killed.”

He frowned, anxiously staring at me. Perhaps my tone was too serious, maybe even a little harsh. I didn’t want to scare him, but it seemed like I was doing the exact opposite. In an attempt to make up for it, I forced out a smile.

“You always look like you’re carrying so many burdens in your heart,” this Neil suddenly said, “I can’t tell...you’re either worried about something, or someone. You’re not as cold as you look.”

“Really?” I was amused, “You’re finally saying something nice about me. I’m flattered.”

The young guide looked at me with curiosity, “So who is it? Are you gonna tell me?”

“Drop it for now. If you can’t come up with other ideas,” I wasn’t willing to answer him, “Let’s go. I’m taking you to where we’re staying.”

As I pushed back my chair to stand up, he shook his head. He made a blunt gesture as if he was either telling me not to disturb him or asking me to stop. I stood there, watching him contemplate with his brows furrowed, then he shouted as he came to an epiphany.

“I got it!”

With arms propped on the table, he jumped out of his seat and flaunted a big smile at me. 

“We’ll use the “accidentally delivered prisoner” trick,” he said, “I’ll dress up as a guide who just got delivered there. They’ll take me around the place. You’re not gonna object to this one, are you?”

“That’s crazy,” I instantly objected, “What are you gonna do after that? How will you escape?”

“You don’t need to worry about that,” he said without concern, “I am an outstanding lockpicker. There are no locks I can’t pick in this world.”

“Definitely not,” I knew I was overreacting, but I couldn’t even explain why I was so mad, “Don’t take worthless risks again!”

It might have been the first time I yelled at him. He shut his mouth in confusion. I subdued the tension on my face—I remembered that they were not the same person. 

“Let’s go,” I patted his shoulder, “We gotta find a place for you to stay first.”

I didn’t expect to see him looking as if he had been horribly wronged. He stubbornly sat where he was and shook away my hand.

“Why would I go with you?” I heard him loud and clear, “I don’t even know you—I know Ellis is a fake name, I’m not that stupid. I’m just a stray dog you picked up off the street. You just want a new face, someone who you can abandon once he has no more use, right? Humph, you don’t own me. I’m not your guide. I can totally just leave, get away from you and your job.”

Caught off guard by his rebellious attitude, I froze in surprise. This was the Neil who hadn’t learned to conceal his edges yet. His background and the treatment he had been receiving made him extra sensitive to others’ emotions. I always forgot that. I also forgot how smart he was, for all the things I hadn’t told him, he had already deducted them himself, and he wasn’t entirely wrong. I thought about my actions. I was treating him with the standards I had for the future Neil, which was certainly unfair to him. 

After venting out all that, he became silent like he knew he was in big trouble. His face flushed while tears glimmered in his eyes, but he stubbornly shut his mouth. At that moment, he touched a certain soft spot in my heart. 

I breathed out a heavy sigh. 

“How are you gonna get away from me?” I softened my voice and started joking, “Do you have a cent on you? Do you know how to cover your tracks?”

“You don’t actually care,” he snapped.

“You’re right, I don’t,” I purposely shook his head with a serious face, “You’re not obligated to help me. You’re right about that as well. I’m going to leave now. If you don’t follow behind, then our agreement is canceled. It’s no big deal. It won’t be the first time I’ve misjudged someone. See, Neil, I believed you wanted to be a real guide—maybe you’re not who I thought you were.”

After saying that, I turned around to leave without hesitation but listened closely to the movement behind me. It sounded like the young man sniffled his nose, mumbled something, then unwillingly followed me. I could feel my lips curving up, but I didn’t turn around.

I paused at the corner of the restaurant, waiting for him to catch up. He dragged himself to me with extreme unwillingness, turning his head to the side to avoid looking at me. I shook out my coat and draped it over his shoulders. He shuddered, then reluctantly accepted it. His eyes were filled with doubts. With the tip of his nose reddened by the cold and his body wrapped in the coat, he really did look like an abandoned pet. 

“You started shivering back in the restaurant,” I said, “Being independent is good. But you need to learn how to accept help from others—yes, even from people like me.”

My self-mockery stunned him, perhaps he didn’t expect to see this side of me.

I turned around in the direction of my car. He didn’t ask any other questions, just obediently followed me. After getting in the car, he huddled in the backseat with his eyes kept on the window at all times, not saying another word. 

By the time I looked back again, he was already asleep with my coat blanketing his shoulders: it was my first time seeing him let down his guard. The look of him overlapped with the Neil in my memory. They both looked so fragile yet obstinate once their guards were lowered.

“You live here?” The young man’s eyes darted around the elevator. His half-awake voice sounded a little stuffy. 

“One of my temporary places,” I told him, “don’t expect too much. There are no massage tubs or marble naked women.”

He exaggeratingly twitched his lips at me. 

“What a horrible joke,” he muttered, “Naked women. You’re hopeless.”

Still being able to joke was lucky enough. No one understood how destructive this profession could be more than I did. I brought the young man to the living room, turned on the light, and told him to get comfortable, then pulled out my first aid box from the cabinet. He watched me as I opened the box, took out a tube of suppressant, and adeptly rolled up my shirt to inject it. He looked like he was seeing something novel.

“I’ve never seen a sentinel like you,” he said, “You have a guide right in front of you, yet you’d rather inject that than bond with him. You’re such a weirdo.”

“So you’d prefer me pouncing on you?” I rolled down my shirt as I cracked a joke, “Sorry, I’m not that desperate.”

This Neil stuck his tongue out at me. Now he could tell when I was joking and when I was being serious. I finally got to see some progress.

I was tired, and the suppressant hadn’t gone into effect yet. I crossed my arms and leaned back on the couch, closing my eyes while adjusting my breathing. For a moment, I even forgot there was a guide in my place. I spaced out for a second, then felt a pair of cool hands touching my temples. I turned around and saw him standing behind me. He became anxious for a second, and his reply stammered.

“Just grounding you...” he murmured.

I acquiesced, dropped my guard, and leaned into his hands. A cooling rivulet flowed through my consciousness, soothing my every insecurity. I wanted to just fall asleep like that, but there were too many things waiting for me to complete. He was going to continue, but I pressed my hands on his and shook my head. I patted the space next to me, gesturing for him to sit. He sat down looking confused.

“Your role is my go-between. You just need to report back what’s going on in there,” I stated, “your job is an excuse.”

“What?” he didn’t understand.

“The job is an excuse,” I reiterated, “I needed an excuse to get you out of the prison they confined you in. After this, I’ll let you go. You are free. Never again will you be under someone else’s control. You also never have to bond with the sentinel appointed to you. You can do whatever you want. But remember, once you leave, you must stay far away from London, stay far away from people like me—only that can prevent you from harm. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“I...” he stuttered in bafflement, “...I don’t. I thought...the job is everything to you.”

“You must promise me,” I sharpened my tone, “staying far away from us is all I ask of you. Do you understand?”

He stared at me hesitantly and gathered up the determination to nod at last. 

“I feel like I know you less and less now,” he whispered.

“Well, that just means you’re finally beginning to know me,” I joked again, but said the following seriously, “Now, let’s focus. We don’t have a lot of time left—I’m going to teach you the basics. Brew some coffee, we’re gonna pull an all-nighter.”

The morning light gleamed through the window and woke me up. I rubbed my eyes and found myself lying on the couch. I stood up yawning, then nudged Neil’s shoulder. Startled, he fluttered his eyelashes and scanned around the room before finally calming down, nestling back to his chair.

“I thought I was still at Brixton,” he was still in fright, “and the matchmaker was having some annoying sentinel pay me a visit—it was definitely a dream, I thought I heard footsteps climb up the stairs. What are we doing today? Having class like last night?”

Before I answered, he suddenly thought of something, snapping his back straight. 

“Ellis,” he said, “those guides—they need to be appraised, right? I’m thinking, an appraiser or an inspector from an insurance company. One or two people, quick and low-key. The employee ID and background info are easy to obtain. It also gives me a reason to walk around.” 

“Now you’re getting the grasp of it.” I gave him the affirmation he had waited for for so long.

He blinked his eyes and bit on his lip, carefully staring at me as if he was trying to figure out if I meant it. I smiled at him, and he shouted with joy. Sleeping in yesterday’s clothes had wrinkled his shirt and gave him a messy bed head. I reached out my hand to ruffle his hair, he froze for a second and blushed, but he didn’t move away.

“Can I ask you a question?” he suddenly said, “Where’s your guide? You do have a guide, right?”

_Okay, I brought this upon myself._

“You’re never gonna take it down a notch, are you? When will you learn to not dig to the bottom of everything?”

“You said I don’t have to bond with you,” he seemed like he had mustered all his courage to say the next few words, “but what if I want to?”

“That’s just reverse psychology messing with your brain.”

“I know what I want.”

“Alright, Neil,” I didn’t want to discuss the topic any further, “Go shower first, I’ll cook breakfast. When you’re done, we’ll talk about the details of our new plan—and don’t bring this up again. Stay here, I’ll fetch you some clothes.”

Just as I was about to leave, he stood up before me, not letting me go. Amused, I paused to see what he was planning to do. I was caught off guard when he stepped closer and kissed my lips. 

It was actually a very brief touch, couldn’t really count as a kiss. But I heard how he nervously held his breath. I must have been petrified, maybe even somewhat helpless. For a while, I couldn’t react or reply, which compelled him to back away in dejection. Before I could even say anything, he ran away in a fluster. 

  
  



	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'ed by [@yan_zi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yan_zi/pseuds/yan_zi)

The rookie guide sat across from me excitedly. With the suit and the slicked-back hair, he was dressed up as an art appraiser. He adapted to the new role very well, except his slightly husky voice exposed his exhaustion. I could see the drowsiness in his eyes, but he didn’t want to go to sleep yet. He had already dropped his disguise and recovered his own nonchalant tone. Now, with elaborative hand gestures, he was depicting for me a vivid image of what he had seen.

“All standard equipment,” he recollected as he said, “electronic monitors, keypad locks, fingerprint readers. Every guide is solitarily confined, so their pheromones are isolated from each other. Getting in is not a problem. How to get out is the real issue.”

“What about security?”

“All sentinels,” Neil replied, “but I don’t think they’re worth your worry. It’s child’s play.”

His word choice humored me, “Child’s play?”

He breathed out an exaggerated sigh, spreading out his hands, “They’re ex-search team members, trained in the military. Pheromones appeared to be from Eastern Europe or Central Asia. Based on empathic reactions, they’re stable but unbonded. Other than that, you also got airport security to worry about.”

“That’s much better,” I said, “Don’t say ‘child’s play’ again, too unprofessional.”

He rolled his eyes at me. I put on a straight face. This boy became less afraid of me every day, and there was nothing I could do. 

“Tell me everything you saw. I’ll judge if they have value or not. Did you see the Rosetta car?”

“Yes, just like you predicted,” Neil said, “Cars under Rosetta’s name come twice a day. All containers were of the same model. But they were unloaded inside, I couldn’t see it in detail. The cars were very likely delivering guides in.”

“Or transporting them out,” I added, “What about the inside? How are those guides?”

“Healthy, but beyond despair. Most of their shields are dilapidated, their resonance ability impaired.”

He was about to continue, but I shook my head.

“Neil, that’s not what I’m asking,” I interrupted, “Listen to my question carefully: how are the conditions of those guides? Can they still move? Can they escape by themselves? If I give them an opportunity, will they make the circumstance more favorable or will they be my burdens?”

He scowled, a sense of displeasure hidden in his shock. His eyes were accusing me of being cold-blooded, but I wasn’t affected to the slightest.

“All of them had been beaten,” the sarcasm in his words burst out, “and branded. Was that what you were asking?”

I didn’t respond.

“I guess you didn’t want to know that,” he shrugged, “so I didn’t mention it. Guess I was right?”

If he thought by staring at me like that, he could capture a trace of empathy in my eyes, then he was going to be disappointed. The look on my face stayed the same, even though his words indeed had hurt me. He was never going to like some of the questions I asked, but I had to know the answers. I had already become used to it. But I couldn’t make him understand that being affected by emotions would only weigh him down. 

“I never said you’d like what you were going to see,” I said.

“Like?” he revealed a melancholic smile, “I’m trying to not have nightmares about it.”

“This feeling will pass,” I was clumsily phrasing my words. I hadn’t comforted anyone in a long time, “It will disappear.”

He didn’t say anything. He just pressed his lips together and scrutinized my face as if he was denouncing my apathy. 

_So have your feelings disappeared too?_ I read what was written in his eyes. But he just shrugged and chased that away, then gazed right into my eyes.

I knew it was hard for him. As a guide, witnessing other guides going through things like that must have made him feel like he went through the humiliation himself. He was disturbed when talking to me, but he hid it with smiles and gestures. When he came back from that place, a piece of his innocence had been left there as well. A new resilience was built up within him like a self-defense rampart.

“Tell me,” he sighed, “Have you always been like this? When it comes to jobs?”

“We can cry for those guides another day,” I stiffly said, “but now we have to save them first.”

He was dumbfounded. Embarrassment and shame burned his face red. 

“I, I think...” he hesitated for a moment, “...they haven’t lost the ability to run away.”

“Thank you, Neil,” I said with no sense of blame or abjection, stretching out the distance between me and the guide, “that’s exactly what I wanted to know.”

He looked away but after a while, he began to sneakily peek at me. I knew he wanted to talk about the kiss, but I intentionally avoided the topic.

“What’s your conclusion?” I snapped my finger to bring his focus back to the job, “Any loophole we can utilize?” 

“Hypnotic gas,” he wasn’t very confident of his idea, “they have a centralized pheromone filtering equipment, its air vent is connected to the airport’s outer wall. Infusing hypnotic gas there can quickly undermine their ability to attack. We can use one of Rosetta’s private planes to block the entrance, then inject hypnotic gas using oxygen tanks. I did the calculation. It’ll only take two minutes. And that would be your means of getting in.”

“Quite a bold plan,” I said.

He waited two seconds, then became surprised, “You’re not going to object?”

“Why would I?” I shrugged, “It’s a very good plan. Go ahead and eat. You have completed your role in this job.”

He was indeed hungry. He rolled up his sleeves and gobbled his food. Now that he had his tie pulled off and sleeves rolled up, he appeared a lot more comfortable. I repressed my laughter. It was my first time seeing someone enjoying taking off the Savile Row’s custom-made suit more than putting it on. He hadn’t finished the bread, but his hand was already reaching for the cheese. Then as if something suddenly came to mind, he snapped his head up to look at me with his mouth full. 

“You said, my job is finished,” he started panicking, “Does that mean you want me to leave now?”

“I’m truly an asshole in your eyes, ain’t I?” I pretended like I was mad, “Eat your food.”

He swallowed down his food, his eyes shining. 

“I just got the grasp of it,” he said, “And I seem to quite like it. Can I stay involved? No matter what you’re planning, you certainly need a helper. Why can’t the helper be me?”

“Because we already established that your job has ended,” I said, “I won’t change my mind.”

He tilted his head to one side and contemplated for a minute. 

“There’s a lot more about this mission,” he realized, “but you haven’t told me.”

I never would have thought that what Neil said to me then would come in handy now.

“Telling you anything would make you a threat.” 

“How can you be so cruel?” he whined, “You expanded my horizon, let me see a new world, then you want to kick me out.”

“I was shot twice, tortured five times,” I calmly told him, “the doctor rebuilt my mouth and part of my five senses. One time, I almost died in Ukraine, all my squadmates didn’t make it. This is the world you are talking about, do you still want to get involved? I taught you this because I hope you can have a choice, not because I want you to become an agent.”

His eyes opened wide as he gulped nervously. 

“Let me follow you,” but he still didn’t give up, “I want to learn more.”

“No.”

“I’ll only observe on the side,” he softened his tone, “I promise I won’t get involved in anything.”

“The answer is still no,” I firmly rejected him, “Don’t try again. I’m not gonna change my mind. And don’t pull the resonance trick on me, I have always hated guides sneakily performing empathic projection on me.”

He wrinkled his nose, poking his food with his fork and knife and making loud noises on purpose as if to denounce me. I felt like if I stayed here any longer, his eyeballs would be permanently distorted from him tirelessly rolling his eyes at me. So I pushed away my plate, told him that I enjoyed the conversation but I had to go shower. 

He didn’t even look at me when I pushed back my chair to stand up. But as I was about to step up the stairs, he called out my name. 

“Can I still stay here?” He anxiously stared down at his plate, “Before I find a place to go?”

“Of course,” My complex feelings at that time were impossible to describe, so I said it again, “Of course, Neil.”

He looked up at me and forced out a smile. I saw the red rimming in his eyes as if he was doing everything he could to hold back his tears. I was scared that I would change my mind, so I hurried out of his sight. 

In the shower, I rushed into the pouring hot water, urging myself to forget about the guide and his plea. It wasn’t difficult because when I thought of the moment on the deck, the moment when Neil plunged into the ocean, I became certain that my decision was right. I was immersed in my own thoughts when someone squeezed in behind the opened shower door. I glared at the reckless guide, who else could it be?

“What are you doing?” Although I immediately turned off the shower, drops of water still got the young man wet. 

“Isn’t it obvious?” Despite his bold words, his quivering lips betrayed him. “I’m seducing you.”

 _Nonsense_. His ridiculous and foolish action caught me off guard. Some guides would exploit sentinels’ weakness to reach their goals, but I’d never thought Neil was one of them. 

He lifted his chin, presenting his throat to me. Rather than saying the posture of offering himself was an adroit seduction, I knew it was an action of shrill desperation. His pretense was too flawed. His callow movements broke my heart. Not to mention after saying that, he became so nervous that he couldn’t even voice out another word. He couldn’t even make himself touch me. He just stiffly stood there, staring at me with anxious eyes. 

“Neil,” I quelled my temper to reason with him, “even if you bind yourself to me, I won’t let you get involved in this mission. Bonding is much crueler than you think. You shouldn’t use it as a wager. ”

“But—”

“But,” I stiffened my face, “I’m not that cheap. If you wanna bang me, at least buy me flowers first.”

He finally smiled. I studied his face and dropped my worries. I turned around for the towel, but he suddenly opened his arm to embrace me. He hugged me so tight that I could almost feel his heartbeats pounding. His arms wrapped below my rib cage, carefully circled my waist. 

I turned around and hesitantly placed my hand on his back. He leaned toward me, rested his head on my shoulder, and stood still for a long time. I could feel him—a solid and dampened weight. I tentatively reached up with my hands to hold him, knotting them in his shirt. He took a deep breath in my arms, tilting his head back to smile at me. 

“You really do have scars,” his fingers curled, gently brushing against my back, “You didn’t make that up. Here—quite an appalling one. Was it a bullet?”

“Um-hum,” my breathing grew tense, “I’ll tell you its story some other day. Now, stop touching it.”

He took back his hands without realizing why I told him to stop. Then he suddenly understood—he nervously licked his bottom lip in a fluster. As he froze in place, I seized the chance to push him out and closed the door. 

I was left alone with my heavy panting. Shaking my head, I bitterly smiled, reaching down to take care of what he aroused. That scar—was it coincidental? The spot he touched just happened to be where that bullet hit me. That bullet was what caused me to lose the last suppressants I had on me, and ended up with no other alternative than to accept Neil’s help. All the memories surged back like rolling billows.

When I came out, Neil was leaning on the couch peeking at me. He seemed very composed, but his fingers twirling the corner of the book gave him away. 

“I can’t bear to watch,” I said, “don’t torture that poor book. Isn’t it too late to be scared now?”

He humphed and spun around to me, “Who says I’m scared?”

“So you’re not scared anymore?” I teased him, “If you’re not scared, we can continue. Come, I’m ready.”

I pretended to be closing in on him. He tossed the book to the side and jolted up, then realized he was fooled. He angrily stared at me with his chest violently heaving, but he couldn’t utter a word. 

I stole his place and leaned back on the couch, crooking my finger at him. 

He couldn’t let it go and lunged at me. 

Seemed like Brixton didn’t teach him how to fight. I dodged his fist and seized his hand. He lost his center of gravity and fell on my lap, kicking his legs. I twisted his arms behind his back and clamped him down. It couldn’t have been easier. He writhed on my lap, then grumpily gave up struggling at last, leaving the duty of expressing anger to his blazing glares. I wrung his wrists, intentionally adding a little force. His face became a bit pale, but he refused to beg. I smirked at him, conveying that I would release him if he admitted defeat. But he glowered at me and turned his head away. I wanted to tease him, so I leaned closer. He sucked in his angrily trembling lips and loudly gritted his teeth. 

“At Brixton,” I immediately understood his reaction, “did some sentinel also treat you like this?”

“None of your business.”

I pressed my lips to his ear, and he widened his eyes. 

“Do you know what bonding is truly like?” I whispered next to his ear, “Bonding heat would burn out your brain. You’d be left with no chance to get away. You would be at my mercy for hours, or even days.”

A trace of humiliation flashed on his face, he tried to act like he wasn’t affected but failed miserably.

“You don’t seem like that kind of sentinel,” he hesitated.

“Oh you’re wrong. I’m exactly that kind,” I returned to my usual look. All the teasing was an act, which he also seemed to have understood. “Books in the Tower are written for guides only. Bonding is not always desirable, sometimes it can even be brutal. If a trained sentinel seizes you like I did, what can you do? Think carefully: you can’t get away solely by cleverness every time.”

He understood what I was going to say. He gazed at me, and I nodded. 

“Now,” I said, slightly loosening my grip on his wrists, “I’m going to teach you something. It’s called shield training. You’re a guide, so you can use your innate ability——”

Surprisingly, he didn’t bicker back. He carefully listened to my every word instead. If only Brixton taught him the most basic real combat techniques, I wouldn’t even need to teach him. But those guys would never teach the guides anything. A guide who didn’t know how to escape was probably just the ticket for them.

I told him how to set up his shield, how to contend with sentinels’ five senses, how to blend into the environment, and how to mess up sentinels’ brains with resonance. He learned quickly and attentively. Time slipped away without us knowing. 

In an instant, I was distracted for a split second, wanting to look behind me— _was someone standing there?_ In that very second, he broke away from my control, then erected his shield. Only when I turned back and saw him clapping his hands did I realize I had fallen for his trap. Other than accepting his taunts, there was nothing else I could do.

“Don’t celebrate too early. You still have a lot to learn. But from now on, you don’t need to fear sentinels anymore.”

“I don’t fear them,” he disdained. “It’s just—” he paused, “they said I can’t be a qualified guide. The matchmaker’s been into my brain. He said there’s a dark countercurrent in it that’s very hard to control. My spirit guide obviously has problems too—she doesn’t listen to others’ orders. One time, a sentinel came to the Tower for evaluations, he said,” he hesitated, clearly that evaluation wasn’t an enjoyable memory, “the sentinel who bonds with me has to have a shield as sturdy as a diamond bit.”

“Nonsense,” I told him, “you’re just a dark guide. Very rare, but they do exist.”

“Dark guide?” he strangely stared at me, “What does that mean?”

I took hold of his wrists to check if I had hurt him. He ducked his head, reluctantly glancing at me. Now he appeared so well-behaved as though the guide who wrestled with me a moment ago—he even tried to bite me—was not the same person as him. I let go of his wrists and beamed.

“It means give it some time, you’ll be stronger than all of them,” I said.

He froze as if he had never been praised by anyone before. I yawned, checked the time, and said I was tired. Only then did he obediently swallow back his questions and go shower.

I was indeed tired. I walked into my bedroom and fell asleep in an instant. In the twilight, I felt someone taking off my deflector and standing by my bedside watching me. _It’s probably a dream_ , I told myself, _I get them often these days_. The young figure who tiptoed into my bed, squeezed into my arms, and hugged my waist was also just a dream. 

However, I woke up on the couch with my coat laid over me. I sat up, couldn’t remember where I was for a moment. The flat was empty. I called out Neil’s name but no one answered. I blankly stared at the coat blanketing me then realized something all of a sudden. I jolted up. My first reaction was to open the guest bedroom door. Then I saw all the clothes I bought him neatly folded and placed by the bed. Not even one of them had been taken away. After I checked all the rooms, I realized that Neil had already left.

Tons of regrets crashed on me. I didn’t have a chance to say goodbye. I didn’t get to do anything for him, or even just find him a better place to go. It was all my fault; I forgot his personality: once he realized he couldn’t be of any help to me, he would never be willing to stay. He had a sensitive ego, never willing to accept others’ charity. He did leave a note for me. The words on there were also quite his style:

_I’m very grateful for all that you have done for me. I hope someday I can repay you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember in chapter 1, when Neil asked Protag "how well trained is your shield" then sat on his lap?  
> See the parallel here?  
> I wanna cry my eyes out T.T
> 
> And when young Neil asked if he could still stay, Protag said of course twice. All that feels~


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'ed by [@yan_zi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yan_zi/pseuds/yan_zi) <333

I dashed down the stairs with the wall as my cover, dodging a flurry of bullets coming from behind. There were more sentinels behind me. Despite the surrounding darkness, I could still hear them. All males, between the age of 28 to 35, remnants of gunpowder, pheromones, some of them were stained with the blood of guides. My sensory stretched out following the narrow corridor, sweeping across the empty lobby. The backdoor was ten feet away. The central control room was one level underground by the corner. A monitor was facing the elevator, and across from it was a side door that led to where the hostages were. 

In the darkness, amid the abysmal silence, I couldn’t tell whether there was an ambush. My spirit animal snapped into action. It ran at full speed, its back legs pushing against the floor, bolting past me in no time. 

Footsteps echoed in the stairway. I quickly adjusted my breathing to resist the first wave of backlash. It was a sensory overload that threw me into motion sickness. I squinted and tossed my head from side to side, sweat dripping down my face, but the dizziness disappeared. Perfect timing: those sentinels just came down. 

The second I ducked my head, a bullet sparked past my ear. 

“What a moron,” a voice reached me from above, “You could’ve escaped unscathed, but you came back for those guides.”

I couldn’t see his face, but I knew who he was. The other me was standing at the top of the staircase behind me. Adrenaline shot up instantaneously, I felt like someone was hammering my temples. Panting for air, I didn’t talk back, but my right hand subtly gripped the gun. My brain was processing like crazy, but I couldn’t think of an answer. 

_It shouldn’t have come down to this. Something must have gone wrong._

I had already successfully captured this sentinel and handed him to Ives. According to the plan, Ives should have already left with the sentinel while I came back to save the guides. Sator didn’t get the agreement since it was still on me. I already won half of the battle. _What went wrong? The sentinel standing on the stairs now, how did he escape?_ I asked myself and the belligerent silence surrounding me. 

He was coming closer. I could hear his steps. Different from all other shuffling sentinels, he was unruffled and confident, like I was the trapped prey. Adjusting my earpiece now was purely a move out of desperation. Since the communication snapped two minutes ago and the signal underground was very shabby, I hadn’t dared to risk overloading my auditory sense again. 

“Squad Green?” I lowered my voice as much as I could, “Squad Green! What the hell happened? Ives?”

But static noise was the only reply I got. I repeated, then a shrilling beep almost pierced my eardrums. Half a second later, a voice that was not Ives’ rang in my ears. 

“Are you trying to reach me?” Sator’s voice was full of coldness and contempt, “I’d recommend you to run inside, idiot. You’re surrounded.”

I ripped off my earpiece so violently that Sator’s last word stretched out into a strident dah. It was then meaningless to ask what had happened. Someone sold me out, the mission failed, the only thing I could try was to save myself.

I listened to the footsteps of that sentinel walking down the stairs, deliberating the choices I had. Unfortunately, Sator’s recommendation was probably my only way out. Running outside was a blind alley. Running toward the inside could give me a chance of survival. But I had to save Crosby because I had to find him and ask him something I had been wanting to ask since the very beginning. I must know the answer. The answer was more important than my life. 

I took in a deep breath, raised the gun, and turned at the corner, sprinting forward. A vigorous figure leaped past my ear. My black panther had returned. With front paws landing on the ground, its lithe movement told me there was no ambush ahead of me. A bullet grazed past its fur, almost hitting me as it sprung up. 

The shadow on the wall was illuminated by the sparks of submachine guns. It was an eagle. Every spirit animal of sentinels trained in Sator’s private grounds attacked with fangs or claws. The spirit animal’s shadow overlapped with the pitch darkness behind. I kept running, listening to myself running out of breath. I had no judgments, no thoughts, only my survival instincts. 

A sentinel lunged toward me in an attempt to seize me, but I rolled forward, dodging his attack and sliding into the door, on which I quickly entered the passcode. The automatic lock immediately closed the door behind me. Still gasping, I found myself breaking into a room of quietude. 

No ambush and no men waiting at the corners. Everything in front of my eyes was too hard to believe. Two lines of iron cage-like cells extended before me, one side for the guides, and the other for the hostages who signed the agreement. All the cells for guides were empty, and all the sentinels should have been knocked out by the hypnotic gas. 

I held my breath, acting cautiously, placed the gun next to my side, and walked along the edge. I originally came back to save the guides Sator collected, but someone had already let them escape, which was not a good sign. I didn’t like the silence. This place was too quiet, which was definitely not good. There was sound-proof equipment, so I couldn’t hear anything outside the room. 

I lurched forward like a blind man, kicking open every cell to check if anyone was in it. In one cell, I found something on the ground that might have been left by sentinels during the search. It was a half-automatic, cracked but still functional deflector. I hung the strap of my gun around my neck and grabbed the deflector, turning it on. After a few buzzing white noises, it choppily began to work. Everything began to become visible in front of my eyes. I noticed a sentinel’s footprints on the ground.

“Ellis?” a hoarse and shaking voice echoed in the dark. 

It was Crosby’s. It came from the innermost cell at the end of the aisle. My nerves that had been tautened for too long suddenly burst. All the doubts and anger broke the dam, tearing through my mind. I came before the cell, kicked open the door, and clasped the collar of the man sitting on the chair in the center. 

Heavy breaths gasped next to my ears. An aged hand clutched my wrist. I knew too well that forcing an answer out of him was not a wise move, but my rage conquered my sanity. 

“Why did you come here? Answer me!” I closed in on him, seizing his neck, “Why did you pick me?”

Crosby was like a broken bellow that couldn’t puff out any air. The hand he used to clutch me gradually lost its force. His eyes were bloodshot, but they were still condescendingly free of an answer. The walls bounced back the echoes of my questions. Those sounds were so unfamiliar like they were from another person——me from the future. The realization petrified me.

Crosby suddenly dropped his hand. He was on the brink of suffocation. I stared into that pair of eyes, but in the end, I repressively sighed and released him. The old man choked on the ground, grabbing my arms. I apathetically waited till his breathing settled. The feeling of numbness subdued my heart.

“Can you walk?” I asked.

“I’m very sorry, Ellis.” Michael Crosby said as if he was extremely exhausted, “I didn’t tell you everything about the mission because—”

“No, I don’t wanna hear it,” I interrupted, “Put your arm around my shoulders. I’m taking you out of here.”

He was still coughing, but I had no time left. I walked up and grabbed his arm, supporting him with my hands. I tried to help him up, but his unbalanced five senses hindered both of us. When I had assisted him back on his feet, he fell forward, almost tripping on my foot, which forced me to stop to reorganize my pace. I heard his breaths next to my ear. They belonged to a tired old man, which I was certain about. But pheromones were flowing too fast. It wasn’t Crosby’s pheromones. In that instant, even the scent changed. 

By the time I helped him back up again, a trace of a strange smell drifted in the air. The sentinel in me alertly paused my movements. A premonition hit me. I suddenly realized that Crosby would never apologize. The sentinel base would never apologize to me. 

I still had one hand supporting this Crosby, but I freed my other to reach for my gun. Just as my fingers were about to touch the trigger, a crisp sound of a safety switch rang before me. 

A gun was aimed at my forehead five feet above my head. At the same time, I heard a voice. It couldn’t have been more familiar.

“If I were you, I wouldn’t do that, Ellis,” that voice said, “Put down your weapon.”

Someone turned on the light. The whole space was illuminated. I saw Michael Crosby standing across from me, on the second floor, by the railing where the sentinels often patrolled. His gun was pointing at me. His men had encircled me, but I didn’t even notice when they came in. They were all trained guides. I stared at that gun, all of a sudden, I felt the urge to laugh, and I did. 

My hysterical laugh resounded in the lobby. 

The man I was trying to save squeezed himself out under my arm. He backed a step and pulled out a gun at me. That “Crosby” was a Rosetta guide—of course he was. His build and age were pretty similar to Crosby’s. That’s why I had mistaken him for Crosby since the beginning. But it was too late to think about all that.

“You used me,” I glared at the face of the man who I thought I knew well, “this mission has always been a trap. You’ve been working with my future self since the beginning. The real mission is using me to find the agreement then getting rid of me.”

“A mission is a mission,” Crosby calmly looked at me with pity in his eyes, “We weren’t targeting you personally—if that makes you feel better.”

“Why?” Tears brimmed over my eyes, I hoarsely asked that question, “Why me?”

“We reached an agreement with Tenet,” Crosby said, “We allow the organization to exist in the future, but in exchange, the current one must be uprooted. You are its founder, so, you’re included in the conditions of the deal. Only this can ensure that Tenet never gets a chance to be formed—so that the sentinel base and the London Tower won’t be at risk. Ellis, I know you’ll understand.”

“What if I don’t want to understand?” I choked out a laugh for how ridiculous it was, “What are you going to do? Kill me?”

“Oh, let’s hope we don’t get to that,” Crosby indifferently said as though he grew tired of the matter. He made a gesture, then two squads of sentinels snatched me. “If you really have to blame it on someone, you should blame your future self. He made this deal with us to keep Tenet alive in the future. It was him who told us your weakness.”

I shut my mouth, not willing to say another word. I could go for broke, but his last line crumbled my will. I dropped my gun and raised my hands, glaring at him with stubborn and blazing eyes. The pity in Crosby’s eyes was now so obvious that it could freeze me to death.

“See it as an opportunity, Ellis,” his voice swirled around my ears like a piece of advice, if you ignored its ruthless undertone, “You’ve been serving us for a long time, now you can finally go home.”

They took hold of me, jerked my arms behind my back, and roughly frisked all over my body. I sneered, watching the guides report back to Crosby empty-handed while the latter’s fake compassion slowly frosted. 

“The game’s not over,” I voiced out each syllable, “You haven’t gotten the agreement—wanna know where it is? Send that sentinel to me. I’ll only tell him, otherwise, I’d rather be shot dead. You know me, torture can’t pry out a word from me.”

Crosby shook his head like an experienced old man facing a naive child. “I’ve always thought highly of you, Ellis,” I heard him say, “What’s the point of that? I must defend the interest of the sentinel base, otherwise, we could’ve been friends.”

“Look, I don’t know why my future self founded an organization independent of the sentinel base and the guide house, but now I’m starting to understand him,” I unwaveringly shrugged, “I don’t want to go home yet, sir. I haven’t finished walking this bone-chilling trek.”

Before my voice faded, the sentinels outside dashed in. Amid the approaching footsteps, Crosby’s appeasement halted. I faltered and lost my balance; using all my sensory abilities to meet the person coming in made me woozy—I knew he’d come. He wouldn’t miss seeing my misery. 

My sight met his footsteps. Just before I met his eyes, a heavy blow struck me. Now that they ripped off their “peaceful negotiation” masks, they encircled me and began to beat me. The pungent taste of blood burned up my throat, making me kneel on the ground with a stifled groan. Gunstocks smashed down on me, the deflector on my neck was tossed away. Before those unruffled, seemingly all-controlling footsteps reached me, I was already losing my consciousness. Between the kicks and punches, a person appeared in my sweat-blurred view, but in the end, it was just my illusion.

When I regained consciousness, I was cuffed to a chair. The slightest movement elicited a painful moan out of me. They sure gave me a quality beating. There was no clock in the room, so I couldn’t tell how long I had been knocked out. I tried to twirl the handcuffs, but someone pushed open the door from the other side of the glass. After being confined alone for so long, seeing another human’s face was somewhat comforting—even if that human was Andrei Sator, and the look on his face was saying I was his dinner.

“What can I say?” Sator sat down, spreading out his hands and laughing at the wounds on my face, “I warned you.”

“If you’re here for entertainment,” speaking stretched my wounds, I hissed, “you gotta pay first, idiot.”

“Says the person handcuffed to the chair.”

“I let all your guides run away,” I emphasized the word ‘all’, “You know? That was the best compensation I’ve ever received.”

“Shut the hell up!” Sator thumped his fist on the desk, leaning forward, enraged. I saw his scrunched face and the cruel sneer on his lips, “You like to talk about guides, then we’ll talk about guides. You’re now stuck in my property, so if I were you, I would give up on escaping. They all say you’re the kind that’s hard to interrogate—but I haven’t met anyone of that kind yet.”

“What can you get out of this deal? What did they give you? Rosetta’s contract? A guarantee of mobility in Tallinn?” I studied his facial expression. “You want Tenet to exist in the future so that it can send you inverted weapons and guides.”

“You’re wasting my time,” Sator said emotionlessly, “Hand us the agreement, and you will live—this is a new condition in the deal, but don’t cheer up yet. We can let you live, but you have to bond with a Rosetta guide, or be locked up in the Tower for ten years.”

My eyes opened wide in insuppressible rage. I heard my own rapid inhales. A piercing pain sparked at the depth of my mind. What he said sounded too familiar. Someone had said the same words to me before. Fear fleeted through me, and I clenched my fists. If I couldn’t change the past, everything would repeat, which would only mean——I gritted my teeth, trying to stop my trembles. 

Behind Sator, a door slammed open. A guide was brought in. 

What I feared the most happened: it was the young man I saved from Brixton. His hands were tied, and his mouth was gagged. He smelled like——the vortex of bonding heat.

“Let him go,” I suppressed my voice. I submitted for the first time since they captured me. “He has nothing to do with this.”

“Quite the opposite, he has a lot of things to do with this,” Sator cornered me like he was feasting on my agony, “Bonding with a dark guide can make a sentinel’s five senses virtually useless. You knew that, but you didn’t tell him? Stupid. You shouldn’t have got him out of Brixton. It gave us the perfect opportunity to locate him. Catching this little one in his bonding heat outbreak was a piece of cake.”

It wasn’t gonna work. I had to switch my strategy. I looked away, displaying a face of disgust.

“He’s not even from Rosetta.”

“He will be eventually,” Sator smiled mercilessly as if telling me not to try to fool him, “You want him, don’t you?”

“I have a guide, dammit!” I spit on the ground, “I’m not gonna bond with a dark guide.”

Sator gave his men a look. Then the one who brought Neil in grabbed him by his hair, yanking his head back.

“So,” Sator leisurely said, “you’d rather I toss him to some other sentinels. How heartless, considering he came back to the Tower all for you—”

The gagged guide began to struggle, then Sator’s man slapped him. I wheezed in an attempt to control myself, my nails digging into my palms. 

_No_ , I stared at that face and thought, _this can’t be_. _I taught him everything and set him on the right path. But just to repay me, he was willing to go back to the Tower with these guys and fall into such a plight. This can’t be, this can’t be true._

I subconsciously met the young man’s eyes, but he averted his gaze to avoid me. Sator coldly scrutinized me for a while, then made another gesture. The two strong sentinels snatched the captive off the ground, dragging him out. My pulse raced at breakneck speed.

“Stop!” I was frenetic to the point of desperation. My taut voice could’ve been cracked by even the weight of a feather, “Agreement—the agreement is in my deflector! Leave him here, send that sentinel to see me. I accept all of your conditions.”

He glared at me, then guffawed. He understood that this was my final surrender. 

There was a moment of chaos. The shuffling in the hall began then stopped, and the door on my side was pushed open. The guide was shoved in. Immediately, Sator left from the other side of the glass. He said something to the man next to the door then strode away. Another man walked in and sat across from me. 

In that instant, I was lost in my own reflection in his irises—after clashing with him several times, I finally got to see how my target really looked. He was sitting in front of me, wearing a mask. I could hear his every breath so clearly.

For a minute, I felt like his eyes were transfixed on me. Was he looking at a mistake from his past or his own victory?

Before I even asked any questions, he left me behind and walked out, ignoring my howls behind him. I shouted until I lost my voice, until the only thing accompanying me was the echoes of my own outcries. Tears streamed down my face. I was trembling until a pair of arms tentatively hugged my head. 

The young guide had already stood up. He uncuffed my wrists, caressed my face, and pulled me into his tight embrace.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really think one of the worst feelings is when you find out the person who set you up is actually you from the future LOL


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Potential triggers: mention of human trafficking, mention of physical abuse of human and spirit guide
> 
> As always, thank you [@yan_zi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yan_zi/pseuds/yan_zi) for betaing!

“Sorry,” the only guide in the room said.

I looked at him, but I wasn’t looking at him. Still in extreme numbness, I had not yet awoken from the bone-chilling wind. He huddled in the corner, intentionally keeping a distance from me as if he wanted me to make the decision. He ducked his head very low, so that his hair covered his eyes, bestowing on him an ambivalent vibe. 

Actually, I should have been the one saying sorry. 

“You should leave,” I realized what to say. It didn’t even go through my brain before it came out of my mouth.

“What? But—”

“They’ll come back. You have to leave before then,” I sharpened my tone, “Give me a hand. Let’s remove that window. You can crawl to the next room from it. Get somewhere safe as soon as possible. I’ll help you.”

He dropped his jaw, trying to think of something to refute my decision.

“You don’t understand—” he murmured.

“No, you’re the one who doesn’t understand. The agreement is not in my deflector. They’ll come back, do you get it? Now give me your hand, I’ll tell you the route to get out of here. You still have a chance of survival. You must leave me behind and get out yourself.”

The young guide reluctantly shook his head. He was the second one looking at me with such pity that night. His expression was strange, but I didn’t think much about it. I thought bonding heat had frightened him, and the circumstances we were in made him helpless. I snatched his hand to trace out the map of this place on his palm, but his hand was trembling severely. It didn’t look like a symptom of bonding heat. I wanted to part the fingers he was squeezing so tight together, yet he suddenly sobered up and pulled away his cold sweaty hand from mine. 

I was stunned. A contorted, self-mocking smile crossed his lips. His cheeks were glowing with a sickly blush.

“Ellis, listen to me,” his tone was appallingly frank, “It’s over. They’re not coming back.”

Suddenly the penny dropped. I snapped my head up to look at his face.

He smiled bitterly, “The agreement—they have the agreement.”

“What did you say?”

His lips were still quivering as if there was something unswallowable stuck in his throat.

“I stole it,” he took a deep breath, then mustered up his determination, “Didn’t I say I’m an outstanding thief?”

I stared at him, but it felt like I couldn’t even see him. I just heard those few words echoing in my ears. Gradually, I returned to my sanity. I laughed, but it sounded like a dehydrated throat being ripped. Neil was still standing there, waiting for my prosecution. But I didn’t want to hear the rest of the story anymore. I twitched my mouth and tasted a faint flavor of blood on my chapped lips. 

_I have underestimated you, Crosby,_ I said to myself. 

I shut my eyes, knocked the back of my head on the wall, and silently sighed.

He worriedly reached out a hand to touch my forehead, but I moved out of the way. His hand awkwardly froze above my head for a while before he finally took it back.

“When did you do it?” I asked decadently.

“The night before I left,” he subconsciously responded, “I—actually I’ve always known where you hid it, I just needed to lower your guard—”

I jumped up and shoved him up against the wall. He didn’t even try to struggle but between the flutter of his eyelashes, he looked at me with pearls of tears in his eyes. I aggressively clasped his throat, but it couldn’t soothe my fury of being betrayed. 

He lifted one hand and grabbed onto my shirt. He almost couldn’t breathe, but he still showed no intention to fight back. Drops of his tears fell on the back of my hand. I jerked my hand back as if they had burned me. 

He reached his hands behind him as if he was blind. Once he groped the wall, he leaned on it and almost coughed his lungs out. I stared at him as if I didn’t know him anymore. He half-masted his eyes and cast me a comforting smile. That smile returned me to my senses—I almost just _killed_ him. 

“S—so—rry,” he said. Oxygen deficiency stuttered the word, but he tried to keep it intact with all his might. 

I shook my head. It was too late for any of that. 

“You’re in bonding heat,” I said, “I can just leave you be and make you suffer. If you don’t wanna die from it, I’d recommend you tell me the truth. Start from the beginning, Neil.”

He shivered. He recognized the tone I used was the one reserved for interrogees and strangers, merciless and cold. Before he spoke, he deeply inhaled. 

“You’re not the first one who came to me.”

 _Ah-ha._ “Michael Crosby?”

“No, an Indian guide, her name is Priya,” he dazed, “I owed her one. She found me in Tallinn. She purchased me and sent me back to the U.K. Otherwise, my fate would’ve been the same as those guides. She brought me back from Estonia and handed me to the man who you call Crosby. He put me in Brixton. And you know the rest.”

“No, I don’t,” I fiercely interrupted him, “Continue.”

His gaze returned to me, his eyes red-rimmed, blankly staring at the wall behind me. 

“He said ‘you will be isolated, abandoned, humiliated, and unappreciated at Brixton, until we arrange you to him.’ I didn’t know the person Crosby talked about was actually you. The day you came for me...I hoped so badly that you weren’t that person because you were so good to me,” he took a short gasp like he was restraining himself from sobbing, “But of course, my wish didn’t come true.”

“So you returning to the Tower after leaving me was also an act? You said you didn’t know you’re a dark guide, was that true?”

“I really didn’t know I’m a dark guide,” he sucked his teeth and endured a wave of scorching heat wrecking his body, not allowing himself to expose any hint of discomfort. “I was guessing...why they chose me, but they never told me the reason. Priya just said they needed a new face. Does that sound familiar to you? I think she has definitely said that to others too...I went back to the Tower because I wanted to trade the agreement for my freedom, but...after that, nothing happened like how Crosby promised.”

I humphed, “Learn your lesson: the Tower doesn’t need to keep its promises. What about your bonding heat? Is it also part of the plan?”

“What?” His eyes flew wide open, scrambling to defend himself, “No, it’s not like that.”

His eyes were somewhat out of focus. I tried to search for hints of a lie, but I believed I could trust him on this one: he wasn’t experienced enough to lie through his teeth while in bonding heat. 

“Continue.”

“I went back to the Tower, but I didn’t get to see Crosby. Someone who claimed to be a matchmaker greeted me. He said the plan had changed so I had to stay,” the resentment in his voice boiled, “I wanted to run, but they told me, if I ran away——you’d be locked up for ten years in the Tower. So I had to stay, then I got sent here.”

 _Crosby, you old sly fox_. He made my future self believe that he gave him the agreement, but the real agreement was still in his own hands. It was the bargaining chip against Tenet, surely he wanted to hold onto it. The key was, did my future self know that he had been fooled? All of a sudden, I really wished the Neil from the future was here because he would know all the answers. But the one before me now—he looked like he needed the help more. 

I snapped my fingers, signaling for him to look up. 

“Why did you obey everything they said? Just because Priya saved you?”

He smiled. Only then did I finally catch a glimpse of the guide I saved from Brixton in him. There was a tint of spiritless innocence left in his eyes, but now, the smile burned it all. 

“You really should’ve accepted my seduction,” he mischievously licked the corner of his lips, “then you would’ve found out everything. That night, I told myself, ‘you should at least give him a chance to discover the truth for himself’——I thought you would have accepted me. Then, everything would have come to light. You would know who I am.”

Sweat ruined his face. But he hadn’t started to beg, maybe I should’ve admired his stubbornness. There was no way for most guides to endure this for any longer than an hour, and that’s if they weren’t injured in the first place. He was already smelling very hot. 

“Then who really are you?” I asked back, successfully shattering his fragile smile.

He stumbled in front of me, reaching out his hands. I frowned in confusion, watching the guide extend his bent arms to me. He presented me his wrists, and I pressed my hands on his. 

“Not here,” he looked down at my hands, meticulously correcting my touch, “you have to go up more—”

He described the whole thing like conducting an experiment, but without specifically clarifying his purpose. He led my hands to the button on his cuff. My fingertip pressed on the icy sphere of carlenean then slid off. He nodded at me. So I undid his cufflink, but cautiously stopped touching him any further. 

He understood after a moment that I was guarding against any potential seduction. With a helpless smile curved on his lips, he rolled up his sleeve himself. 

The look on his face didn’t change, but the skin he exposed made me gasp.

“They locked up my spirit guide in the Tower,” Neil had already grown used to seeing the marks on his body, his eyes only indifferently skimming past them, “She had been separated from me since they brought me back. If I didn’t obey, she would get beat up—I think they always used a whip because I felt the same pain. The welts would show up on my arms and my back, and they barely ever faded, so I got used to covering as much of my skin as I could. They said they’d let me see her after the mission, and they’d heal her.”

“Oh God.”

“Who am I?” he repeated my question like he was lost in his thoughts, “...I’m just another slave. I did have a brief freedom at Brixton—I could read whatever books I wanted, at least they couldn’t take that away. I didn’t come back to you because I’m in heat, I promise! You gave me the only true freedom I’ve ever had, the night you let me run away.” 

I couldn’t catch my breath.

With his head tilted, he studied the look on my face.

“You don’t believe me?” he rolled back his sleeve and glanced a defeated look at his arm, “They’re not left by Sator’s men. They’re old scars although they don’t look like it.” He hesitated for a second, licked his chapped lips, then began to undo the buttons on his shirt, “I’m saying the truth. I have more of them, I can show—”

He had already undone two buttons at his collar, but I stopped him.

“No need for that,” I grabbed his hands, soothing my voice, “I believe you now.”

He blankly and unconsciously smiled at me, opening his mouth as if trying to say something, but the next second, he faltered and tumbled on me. Bonding heat had knocked him out. I sensed the desire to be touched by a sentinel roaming across his skin. I let him lean on me as he painfully moaned in a haze, uncontrollably trying to squeeze into my arms. It took me a lot of effort to hold him down, then I unbuttoned his shirt. Maybe it wouldn’t help that much, but at least it could give him a breather. 

I thought I was prepared; however, when I saw the ghastly welts crisscrossed all over his back, I felt my heart being torn out.

I changed my mind. _I will create Tenet. I will teach the guides what they should know. If that can make those people feel this scared, then let’s scare them to death._ The determination swelled in my heart as my finger traced down the scars on Neil’s back. But the guide in my arms wasn’t aware of any of that, he instinctively welcomed the touch of my finger, then briefly returned to consciousness when I touched where he had not yet healed. 

“Ellis,” he mumbled, “bonding with a dark guide will render a sentinel’s sensory abilities useless, is that true?”

I caressed his hair, but my mind was somewhere else, “Yes.”

“Is that why—” he whispered, “—you don’t want to bond with me?”

“No.”

“You—” His burning-hot hands reached for me. With his face blushing, he fondled all over my body, then he discovered something—“you’re not in bonding heat,” his eyes grew dim as he reluctantly said, “your bonding heat should’ve been triggered—you don’t want me.”

Before I could say anything, he muttered something and lost his consciousness again. I sighed and took off my jacket to cover him, trying my best not to affect his injuries. His pheromones surrounded me as the pain of my wounds gradually alleviated. Exhaustion crumbled my consciousness. I leaned on the wall, initially hoping to rest for a little while, but instead, I fell into a bottomless abyss of sleep.

I was woken by the sound of lockpicking. I opened my eyes and took a long time to recognize the silhouette in the dark. The guide in bonding heat was busy dealing with that window. His hands were trembling so much that the tools in his hands frequently bumped against the iron bars, which slowed him down but didn’t waver his determination. He had his heart set on opening the lock. 

“What’re you doing?” I observed him for a while, then asked.

I startled him. He jolted back and hit his forehead on the frame, swallowing a muffled scream. With one hand rubbing his forehead, he ranted a little then finally answered me.

“I’m going to run,” he grumpily said, “I don’t wanna stay here, not because you don’t want to bond with me. It’s just that I don’t want to be used as a tool against you. I can take care of the heat myself.”

“And make me be locked up for ten years?”

“I’ll come visit,” he scoffed, “No matter where they lock you up, I will get you out. I keep my promises.”

“Child’s play,” I borrowed his words, “What can you even do after you crawl out? Serve yourself as the dinner for Sator’s sentinels?”

He stood there without a movement, but I could tell he was trembling. 

“You’re shaking like a leaf,” I darkened the sarcasm in my tone, “How are you gonna take care of it yourself? Look, you can’t even make it out of the gate. Plus all the unbonded sentinels can smell you.”

He ignored me and turned around to keep working on the window. Then I heard the sound of it unlocking. I cursed. When he removed the shutter and stepped one foot out, I dashed toward him and held his waist. He kicked me hard, but I didn’t let go. I held his whole body up, and brought him down from the window. He made a crying noise, so I reached up with my hand to touch his face, but then he bit down hard on my arm. 

_Damn guide, this was my second time falling for this trap._

He struggled out of my arms. There wasn’t a single tear on his face.

“Don’t jump,” I fixed my eyes on his mocking face and opened my arms wide, “Alright, you won. I lost.”

He observed me with his face full of distrust. 

“I won’t go against your will again, I promise,” I sought to convince the sensitive, wounded yet still prideful brat, “I’ve always wanted to have you—no matter if it’s right here right now, or when we were back in my flat.”

He didn’t even move a bit. 

It was my fault. I turned him into a skeptical person. It seemed to be the only feasible way to survive in the world I was in. I had already said everything I could say, but another idea popped up in my mind. It had nothing to do with words.

I looked at him, then quietly turned around, bringing my wrists together and offering them to the guide behind me. He was silent, but his breathing quickened. 

I waited for a moment then felt a weight suddenly cling to my back. The guide leaned his head against my back, wrapped his arms around my waist, and burst into tears. Drops of scalding tears gently landed on my palms one after another.

  
  



	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry yall, this took a little longer. But yea, finally we get to see what we have been waiting for XD
> 
> Beta'ed by [@yan_zi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yan_zi/pseuds/yan_zi)

I tentatively called out the guide’s name. 

Just to confirm that he could bear everything that would follow. Because before I was even halfway done with stretching him, he fell on his knees with his forehead touching the ground, tightly furling in my fingers, mumbling incoherent whimpers. Every time I crooked my knuckles, he would bite on his arm as if I was driving him to an unfamiliar climax. He was pinned under me, helplessly writhing his flushed body, as a wave of crimson yet icy blush tinged his face to his chest. The rough surface of the ground grazed his knees and chest, causing him to arch his spine and press back against my cock. 

Even my finger’s faintest movement in him could draw uncontrollable quivers out of him. Merging all his resonance solely on me caused him to behave vacantly. I felt like all my sensory capacity had run dry on him because exploring him was pure enchantment. 

The guide who willingly hurled himself into my control cried himself hoarse in my arms. His lashes shivered on his half-lidded eyes as if he had melted. I took out my fingers and ambled around to his erection. My fingertip was only swirling around the moistened tip, but he instantly gasped in a hasty and broken breath, leaned back toward me, and lifted his chin, offering his throat for me to kiss. He rubbed his cheeks against me, shallowly panting, completely unaware of how alluring he looked as he licked his lips wet. 

I called out his name again, crouching over him to check if he was still okay. He wobbled himself up and turned around his head, his pleasure-tinted eyes out of focus. He stared at me blankly as though he didn’t understand my question. I bumped my waist forward, and he sang a whine from his throat, the soft heat enclosing around me uncontrollably contracted, his supple waist tightened in my hands.

“You’re in too deep...” he complained in his ragged voice yet still raised his ass to thrust back against me.

“Too deep, or not deep enough?” I said as I gnawed on his lips. 

He shook his head, refusing to answer. The lips he had licked wet were glistening with a sultry glow, dented with the marks his own teeth had left when the irrepressible lust stormed him. Right after I entered into him, he groped the sheets, wincing forward to get away, but luckily I clutched his waist in place. In bed, he didn’t even know how to escape. He could only watch as I pulled him closer and arranged him into a pose with his hips hiked up. His face blushed, his eyelashes glued together with drops of sweat, his wide-opened eyes blurred by vertigo. 

I was only pushing shallowly in him, but he was startled. His flinching legs timidly slid past my ankles, ingratiatingly stroking my feet. Now that I had his hips higher to bury myself inside him even deeper, he bit on his knuckles to quell his keens.

I tightly pressed myself to his back, securing his thighs in place with both of my hands, my erection completely inside of him. He was tightly squeezing me and being filled by me, and that sensation ravished my mind. His heartbeats, his gasps, his panting breaths, his moans—all were scathing yet broken like they had been forged into my five senses. I drove into the hilt. The very first thrust made him drop his head and incited a brutal shiver down his entire body. The curve of his back surrendered to me, presenting itself in a stance of the ultimate tolerance. 

I reached out to caress his neck, wrapping my hand around his throat. After a shiver, he snuggled up against me. Grasping his throat, I traced kisses from his cheek to his ear, sending my scorching breaths sauntering around his ear. He became even harder. He put himself in my palm as if encouraging me to grip him tighter. I nipped his trachea, then he shut his eyes and swallowed those tiny quivers.

I did it again, taking him with one raw thrust while my hand wreathed his throat. He turned his head when I nibbled his earlobe, pleadingly parting his lips.

I almost scared the life out of him, which he didn’t try to hide, but he still eagerly accepted me, tolerating me to steer him open and ram inside of him. His trust kindled my greed. His cock was so hard, the tip imbued with a ruby shade, but he obediently locked his hands above his head, restraining himself from touching it. He begged me to seal my lips over his, so I did, then he came as he helplessly writhed and moaned beneath me, his cum spilling through my fingers. 

The noise he made caused me to lose control for the first time that night. I clinched him in my arms, interlocked my fingers with his above his head, and bit onto the bare skin on the side of his neck. I bit into his gland, making our scents mingle together, then I bent over to sniff his neck, savoring his pheromones. 

His body keenly attuned to mine—after all, he had been waiting for so long—he became pliant, relaxed yet quiescent. I tenderly licked away the traces of blood oozing from where my teeth had pierced him. He arched his neck towards me, whining impatiently and pulling me in closer.

I flipped him around. He bit my lips in a whimper, ardently inviting me for the second time, letting me fumble with the hair on his chest and pinch his nipples. 

We tacitly slowed down our pace, spending more time to caress each other. He explored my body, stroking my stubble with his fingers and nudging my cock with his thighs. I sucked a pink mark on his jawline and earned a soft grumble from him, but he still knotted his fists in my hair. The aura his orgasm had left behind turned his movements languid and frazzled. When I fiercely thrust back in again, I caught him off guard and elicited a cry out of him. He rapidly blinked his eyes and hesitantly licked his bottom lip. I sluggishly heaved my waist, startling him into clinging onto my shoulders.

I clasped his hip bones then increased the pace, failing to restrain myself from slamming into him. His legs were spread wide apart. His naked chest trembled below me. The thrusts almost sent me into sensory overload, but I greedily continued. 

Before reaching the climax, I fixed my eyes on the guide. Neil’s thighs were shaking under my gaze, but he still forbearingly kept them hooked around my waist. I remembered that time at the safehouse, his same forbearance, and his same effort to reciprocate me. 

As he pressed his fingers against the back of my neck and moaned out my name, I reached the peak. I clenched my teeth as I rode out my orgasm, heard my own hoarse roars, then tumbled into the guide’s arms. After a moment of fondling, he embraced me, his fingers tentatively touching the bullet scar on my back. Sensing my stiffness, he immediately retrieved his hand, but I was only adjusting our positions to hug him more comfortably and to nuzzle his shoulders. His hand wandered back, audaciously stroking that old scar, his fingertips tracing its outline.

“Who could hurt you this bad?” he asked in curiosity.

“You really want to know?”

He nodded.

I kissed his shoulder and closed my eyes, “You.”

“Me?” he skeptically repeated my word, “Why?”

But my lips were already closing in on his newly-conquered gland, so he forgot about his question with a nervous gulp. He bashfully closed his legs together, letting me grind myself against the groove between his ass and thighs until I became hard again. I prodded myself against him, gently rocking my waist, whispering to him that he was doing great. 

Heat visibly climbed up his face again. He sucked in his lips, refusing to respond. We were empathically linked, he could clearly sense how I became harder second by second. My desire channeled to him through our connection, causing him to avert his gaze from mine. 

His Adam’s apple subconsciously throbbed. His heart pounded in his ribcage. He softly gasped when I jabbed forward into the cleft by his thighs, his hands weakly clinging onto my shoulders. His emotions were transparent to me through our link. I loved to be bundled up by his woozy satisfaction; it was tender and fluffy, harboring me; I could dive into it and roll around in it all I wanted. As for my wanton thoughts—grabbing the pair of balls hanging between his thighs, spanking them, clenching them, making him cry for it, making him clamp my hand and scream—they had certainly been sent to his brain too because his eyes flew wide open. A boundless nebula glowed in the depths of his eyes as if he suddenly lost his breaths.

I propped up my body and sat up, grasping his legs and folding them to his shoulders. He grew tense for a minute, clenching his muscles as my breaths puffed on his entrance. But I held him very firmly and ducked my head to lick across his perineum, relishing the taste of his sweaty skin tautened under my lips. 

“Oh God,” I heard him panicking. 

He was in a daze until I plunged my tongue into his puckered center. He coarsely sucked in a breath of air, tossing his head in a flurry. I skimmed around his entrance in little circles to tease him. With fistfuls of my hair in his hands, he trembled as if he couldn’t decide to encourage me or to push me away. After pulling out my tongue, I pressed a thumb into him. He shut his eyes and tipped his head back, honestly reacting to the sensation of cum trickling out of him. The back of his knees that were reddened from my grip, the shivering ankles that he struggled to bring together, and the tightness of his entrance ringed around me were all aboveboard candid. 

I folded his thighs up, rested his ankles on my shoulders, then sucked in every inch of him. He twanged a lucid sob, jolting up his waist when my lips sucked his precome-dripping cock harder. The sounds he made were desperate yet ragged, as if the intimate sensation had already pushed him to the peak. I held his balls in my hands, gently tugging them down, then I swiveled my head to slurp in his length. He screamed like I was bullying him, even cracking his voice. His legs warily clamped around my head, and he rushed to reach out his hand to me. Only when he found my hand and interlocked our fingers did he finally let out a breath. 

By the time I pulled my mouth off, he had already turned into a fluffy mess. I softly nudged him, then he immediately bent his knees and spread his legs for me. I gripped my cock and pressed it against his entrance. He beamed a befuddled smile at me, stroking his calves against my waist. I slowly and more patiently entered him, fucking him with a more unruffled pace. This time, he would need more time to come. His reaction was sensitive and frank, his glassy eyes chasing me tirelessly. 

This round, it changed to him biting me—losing his breath, he sank his teeth into my scent gland like he was demanding some sort of fairness. He seemed to have mustered all his courage to do it, but I connived him as I gently patted his back. He didn’t let go until he tasted blood, then languidly kissed the teeth marks he had imprinted on me. He panted gusts of air next to my gland, which sparked fireworks up my spine, tightened my legs, and impelled me to the climax. I didn’t caress him, but I stripped my shield away for him, letting him explore all my scars in whichever way pleased him. I maintained an indolent pace, coming in and out of him until the thrill of my orgasm faded. He only came once, and he was still hard. I brushed my finger around him. The guide gasped, shaking his head to plead. He dazedly sucked my finger, rubbing his cheek against my hand to seek my favor.

“Let me rest for just a little...” he begged in his feeble voice.

“Your mental force hasn’t started backlashing. I need to drive you to your limit. Only then can we be linked permanently.”

“Always calculating every step,” he mumbled, whiningly nipping my finger, “I thought we’re already bonded.”

“Yes, but we’re not linked yet,” I pulled out my hand and patted his face, “Come, I’m giving you a chance to destroy me.”

He chuckled somewhat anxiously as though he couldn’t tell if I was kidding. I pulled him up, and he reluctantly obeyed. 

In the end, I locked him in my arms and drew out every very last drop of him with my hand. My lips and tongue prowled on his back, nibbling those blood-seeping welts. His reaction was unbelievably intense. He struggled, trying to escape my lips or my hands, but I had him clamped, cornering him to the ultimate cliff of pleasure. He sounded almost pained when he came, throwing himself back into me. He surged up to kiss my lips, desperately searching for comfort through the kiss. His shield was completely open, trapping in my senses. Before I could even react, a backlash pounced on me like a heavy blow and knocked out my consciousness.

When I woke up, my head felt like it was going to crack, but my body felt unexpectedly relaxed. 

_ Great, they’re gonna whip her again.  _

A thought that didn’t belong to me swept past my mind. I rubbed my temples and tossed my head, then realized it belonged to Neil. His fear, anxiety, and scorn emerged in my brain. Only at that moment did I realize: we were truly bonded.

“Set up your shield,” a voice kindly exhorted from behind. 

I didn’t react fast enough, then the pain of a loud lash instantly burned on my back. I reflexively touched my back, but there wasn’t any wound. It was the other person who was enduring the torture, and it projected to me through our link. 

_ Speaking of this, where is he? _

“After the bonding was completed, he was sent to Rosetta to be trained. The bonding was just a deal, they wouldn’t let him stay here to foster deeper feelings for you,” the person behind me said, “Cheer up, at least you get to survive.”

I had already recognized the voice and the silhouette outlined by rays of moonlight. 

“You’ve been waiting for me to wake up? How long have you been standing there?”

“I know this is not the best time,” the person behind me took a step and walked into my sight, “But I’m here to get you out.”

I raised my head and saw the smile I was so familiar with gleaming on a cold face. 

“Was I right?” he whispered, “He’s the kind of guide you like? Don’t look at me like that. He will become a Rosetta guide, and no one can stop that. We can’t change the past. On the bright side, you marked him, he’s yours. Once you found Tenet, he’ll be your right arm.”

A scoff distorted my lips. 

“Gosh, Neil,” I said using the other guide’s tone, “how did you become like this?”

I truly could not relate the person in my arms a while ago to this composed, lukewarm man who always disguised himself with taunts and mockery. 

The corners of his lips grudgingly quirked, revealing the pain my remark had stung him with. But he only intently transfixed his gaze on me—there were too many feelings in his eyes. I suddenly realized that I never asked where he had been all this time, or how he had been. 

“Let’s go,” he switched the topic, “I’m getting you out of here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This smut burned my brain LOL  
> The older Neil is back, and I wanna cry.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Potential trigger: gun violence
> 
> Beta'ed by [@yan_zi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yan_zi/pseuds/yan_zi)

The rope jerked, shaking in Neil’s firm grip. Neil retreated to the side, letting the ejected rope do its work. The grapple shot forward and tugged us, pulling us to another building. 

Upon landing, I had to dash forward a couple steps before steadying myself. Neil nimbly unhooked the grapple from the safety rope, then uninstalled the other end from the pulley. After the last safety rope was untied, we staggered across the rooftop. Looking from here, I could see the sentinels’ sentries. We crouched by the eaves. Across from us was the distant and blurred horizon. The night had absorbed all the sounds, even my heartbeats. I could hear the chatter of the sentinels on their night shift, their coughs, even their breathing, but I couldn’t hear a sound from the guide beside me. I crawled forward a few feet, then made a gesture with my palm facing out. Neil stopped, setting up his sniper rifle beside me. He breathed vigilantly—slowly inhaling, then exhaling as lightly as possible. His mind was like a body of dark turbulent water, and the ripples at its edge were urging me to move forward.

We were now located at the side of two sentries that were a hundred fifty yards away. Neil erected the rifle on the ground, placing its barrel on two pieces of piled bricks. I stared at the guide smoking at the sentry. He was a seasoned veteran. Getting rid of him couldn’t get us out of here, but he looked like the head of the Rosetta guides. 

As I observed, Neil was searching through the scope. He lowered his upper body, crouching on the ground, fixing his sight into the distance, his finger stably hooked around the trigger. His right shoulder pressed against the gunstock, the side of his face next to the rifle. He cast me a glance, looking even more gentle and indifferent than usual. He was telling me he was ready.

I made the gesture, my palm slicing the air by my ear. Neil leveled the rifle, aligning one of his eyes with the scope. Pulling the trigger didn’t sound louder than a heartbeat. The instant the bullet dashed out, his breathing became soft and prolonged. With a quick flex of muscles and a sound quieter than a branch breaking in the air, the bullets were reloaded: the gunstock bumped back onto his shoulder. 

That guide fell on his knees, his head unnaturally bent to one side. He twitched as he stared at the sentinel outside as if he couldn’t believe what was happening to him. Thin streams of blood seeped out from his forehead, and his convulsing body became stiff. A breach was created in the shield that encircled the sentry. Neil paused to observe, using his empathic ability to search for the most restless one among the sentinels, then pointed out that person to me. Whoever had the rifle’s red dot flickering on his forehead was the sentinel of that guide.

I tensed the muscles of my shoulders, aimed at the right spot, slowly pulled the trigger, then added another shot to the sentinel before he could make a sound. The targeted sentinel collapsed silently, and their empathic connection was destroyed. I paused, searching for my next target. Neil’s shield covered over me as I retreated. The whole process was smooth and concise, all in one go. After a few times, we established a pace that belonged solely to us: first, Neil shot the selected guide, then he quickly utilized his ability to find the guide’s sentinel for me; I made a clean shot, getting rid of the sentinel, then immediately retreated to the safety net that Neil opened up for me, blending into the surrounding environment seamlessly. We spent a few minutes to reorganize, wait, then find the next target. Neil would reload the bullet while I detected the wind direction and determined the angle. It was a dance, a primeval, deathly dance.

The one-sided hunt eased my body and mind, plus I hadn’t worked with such a compatible guide in a long time. Breathing in the fresh air at night, I even felt the pain from the whipping on my back disappear. In the gaps between gunshots, I could hear Neil’s unruffled heartbeats. 

The sentinels quieted down after brief chaos. As the wind started to blow, they were regrouping. 

“I owe my future self one,” I said to Neil, “Because you are so damn exceptional.”

Neil’s lips quirked into a smile, “Even without a gland?”

“Maybe you don’t even need it,” I shrugged, “Look at the sentinels, you’ve petrified them.”

I met his eyes then realized what I had said, “Sorry.”

He laughed and slowly turned away. I watched him skim over the collapsed sentinel then glance at the ones running toward the corpse. 

The eyes of the sentinel were still open, blood gushing out from his temple. The solidified blood on the ground turned cold and thick. 

“Wind direction has changed,” Neil said, “We can drive the sentinels into a cluster.”

We crawled forward to change our position, retreating from the previous corner in a straight line. We stopped at a spot more than a hundred yards from the sentinels. This time we occupied the southeastern corner, where the wind direction would work in our favor. I inspected the gun while Neil judged and observed the situation.

“You attack, I cover,” he said, “We still got time before reinforcement arrives.”

I examined the positions of the sentinels for a few minutes, then aimed at a guide relatively far from the crowd and pulled the trigger. The gunshot alarmed several others; they turned their heads in the direction of the sound, but Neil’s resonance severely interfered with their sensory systems. It was as if there was a layer of fog between him and the collapsed soldier. They had to wait for the fog to fade. The guide who got shot dangled his arms, dropped his jaw, then thudded to the ground. The gunshot’s faint echo rang in my ears. Blood flowed out from a sentinel’s nostrils and dripped on the ground, merging into a narrow stream. Another guide fell to his knees by his side, grabbing his deflector and yelling something at him. The heavy fog began to fade, but the sentinels’ footsteps were reluctant to move forward. Some of them stopped moving, waiting for an order. By now, the concentration of guides had been dramatically cut down, causing the remaining unbonded sentinels to be on edge. 

“Always avoiding hitting their glands on purpose.” Even though Neil didn’t turn around, I knew he was talking about me.

“Maybe I missed.”

“You never miss,” Neil said, “Shooting a guide’s gland causes his pain to interfere with other guides’ resonance. That’s easier and more effective. You’ve been trained. Your marksmanship has no issues. You just don’t want to.”

“Did you come back to save me or to mock me?” I joked, “I’m seriously starting to question that.”

Neil reloaded the bullets, leaned to the barrel, searching for a suitable target among the unbonded sentinels. At a pull of his index finger, a moving sentinel fell with his head facing down in a heavy thud. Peers of the collapsed sentinel rushed to his corpse, squatting down to check on his gushing blood, and also touched his deflector. One of them turned around and shouted, another spoke into his interphone.

“You need to start retrieving your five senses,” Neil said, “They’re calling for reinforcement, and those who come won’t be Sator’s men.”

I nodded without looking at him. Sweat had seeped through my clothes. I couldn’t even feel the chilling night air anymore. Neil yanked back the rifle bolt, ejected the clip, and counted the remaining bullets. More sentinels appeared. The corpse had already been dragged somewhere else. The running footsteps of the sentinels who just arrived and the sounds of gunstocks bumping against their waists and thighs made our surroundings appear even quieter. Half of the night had passed, three-fourths of Sator’s sentinels were down. Their new force was moving southward, forming an irregular line. 

I got used to the procedure: stiffen my shoulders, pull my index finger, then hear a gunshot amid the silence. I blinked the sweat out of my eyes. White noise permeated the opposing camp like winding mist. Neil made a sign, I stopped, and we watched the new sentinels getting into formation. 

“Five more bullets,” Neil told me.

I nodded. “Get ready,” I responded, “After we use the five bullets, they’ll come up.”

After saying that, I pulled the trigger again. A guide stepped back in a panic: blood was rushing out from his carotid artery.

Neil selected two more sentinels. When he shot the third one, they found where we were. A team of sentinels began to run in our direction, but I had no more bullets left. I tossed my gun to the side, not moving my gaze away from the sentinels. Neil handed his rifle to me, pulling out a pistol from his waist. He used the wall as a cover, dodged the clumped firepower, and retreated to the side. After a heavy thump of my rifle, their last guide was shot. This unbonded guide screamed and swayed into the sentinels’ formation. Some sentinels moved forward while the others were obviously bewitched, skeptically remaining at the same place. I fired again with my last bullet. Following the gunshot, pheromones surged out from the injured guide like an overflowing fountain, forming a massive hypnotic effect. An unbonded sentinel fell onto his knees and covered his head. The crowd was dispersed. The team of sentinels rushing toward us was hindered by the unexpected incident.

“You got some skills,” Neil said, turning around to cast me a smile.

“I’m so flattered,” I curled my lips tauntingly, “Your turn. The door.”

Neil only used half a minute to crack that door’s password. He turned the handle, then quietly stood there listening to the gunshots. We exchanged a glance. The gaps between the gunshots were very short and hasty. The very last one just lightly swung by. 

“It was the kneeling sentinel,” Neil was very certain, “They executed him.”

He sucked in some air and frowned while I shrugged. I looked out, watching the narrow line of running sentinels orderly break into the building we were at. They had no guides now whereas we had not enough bullets. It was hard to say who would prevail.

“Let us pray that the guideless sentinels don’t figure out our exact location, otherwise we’ll be in trouble.”

Neil shrugged, tossing something to me.

“Too late to pray now.”

After saying that under his breath, Neil sprinted down the stairs. His figure vanished in the blink of an eye while his footsteps receded to the darkness. The thing I caught in my hands was a grenade. I sped up and slipped inside before the door shut. Neil led me on without even glancing back. His spirit guide nimbly ran ahead of us. I heard her breaths in the dark and the sound of her front paws bouncing off the ground. Neil didn’t pause since he did not doubt that I would catch up. The firepower sounds diminished. I couldn’t capture any more scents or the breathing of the sentinels. I lifted my shield a little and instantly sensed the rigid blockade around this building. I retreated under the shield. In the pitch darkness, there was a gleam of light. It was brought to me by the guide running ahead of me. However, he turned around right at this spot and blocked me.

“I stole the agreement.” His voice was strange, sounding like his teeth were quivering. His forehead was dampened with sweat drops. He shoved something to me, “Now I’m giving it to you. Take it and leave. Your job here is done.”

I pulled him into my arms and felt the wetness on his chest.

“You’re injured? Were you already injured when you came to find me? Answer me!” 

“You shouldn’t trust a guide,” he shook his head and remembered something, then he said, “Especially someone like me. Now leave.”

But I refused. 

The sentinels were close. Other than footsteps, there were also noises of gunshots. The intervals between shots were becoming shorter, the sounds quick and dense. A brief silence followed each gunshot. Through the window, I could see the clouds of dust stirred up by the running sentinels. 

Another round of shooting. Some of them changed direction and went away from us. A few minutes later, explosion-triggered smoke soared in the air. The chasing sounds by my ears shifted their rhythm. I snatched the pistol, alertly aimed at the person running up from the stairs. But when the smoke thinned out, I saw a familiar man: it was Ives running towards me. He saw the guide in my arms.

“I need to save him,” I blurted.

“Not gonna work,” Ives shook his head after checking Neil’s condition, “He got shot. He won’t last long.”

“I’d rather try my luck. Give me a route. I’m his sentinel. I need to take him out of here.”

Ives sighed, exchanging a glance with Wheeler. He stood up, grabbed a rifle, and handed it to me, then he took off the deflector on his neck and handed it over along with the weapon. 

“We have cleared a path,” he said, “You can leave with Neil through it. You won’t run into people from Rosetta, but you might see sentinels from the base; there’s a car outside, it’ll send you two to Oslo, and in there you can invert his wound. Be careful, an army of ownerless spirit guides have taken over outside. Sator’s gifts. ”

“Ownerless spirit guides?” I asked confusedly.

“Sator’s Stalsk 12 training ground,” Ives said, “there are all sorts of strange things in it. I thought you knew.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised by anything anymore. Neil once mentioned Sator can invert resonance, what does that mean?”

“He’s got the machine, the one that can invert the bond between sentinels and guides. That’s all I know. Anything else is beyond me.”

I accepted the rifle but didn’t take the deflector. Ives lowered his voice and reprimanded my recklessness. I heard it, but I didn’t care. I helped Neil up, and he temporarily came back to consciousness. He grabbed onto my arms. I had to pause in order to hear what he was saying.

“Ellis.”

“I’m listening.”

“It’s over,” he panted.

“No,” I pulled out my pistol and gave it to him, “It just began.”

Neil took the pistol from me and gripped it carefully, then he gazed at my face. A shred of undistinguishable emotion flashed past his face. He stubbornly got into a deadlock with himself for a little while, but eventually, he gave up entirely. He clasped my wrist and struggled to straighten his upper body. 

“Listen to me,” he said, “If you want to get Kat back, I know where she is.”

“We can talk about this later,” I said.

“No, I must tell you now,” he stubbornly interrupted me in a fluster, “Fort William, they got sent there. There’s a guide house over there, not big but very nice. I’ve seen her, I went to find her before this—”

He didn’t finish the sentence. He just grasped my hand with a force strong enough to break my bones. I heard his teeth gritting, drops of sweat trickling down his forehead. His head dropped to the side, and he lost consciousness again. I heard Ives sighing.

Maybe this trip was not going to be easy.

An hour later, facing the spirit guides storming at us, I held my breath. The mob was menacing and truculent. It was impossible to scare them away with my rifle. They ran at full speed with no sentience. Even bullets couldn’t back them off, barely forcing them to change direction. It seemed like they had no set target, but they were in fact coming at Neil and me.

I propped the rifle against my shoulder, aimed a shot at a racing adult brown bear among them. My thumping heartbeat almost muffled the sound of the gunshot. My second try was even more on point. The beast tumbled down, but the rest of the spirit guides went around it like streams of river parted by rocks before merging back together. I shot again and again. All of a sudden, they all turned to the left, dashing towards Neil. They had figured out that the guide was the weaker target. My spirit guide bolted forward, growling and roaring, prancing around Neil, trying to compel them away. The mob of beasts gradually slowed down their advancement, retreating to a hundred yards away, confronting me with the brown bear’s corpse lying in the middle.

I took a pause, panting for air and searching for a breakthrough. The second wave of attacks swept above us. It was a group of birds. Neil woke up in pain, raising his gun to shoot at them. But due to his lack of strength, his body was slanting when he fired, causing him to clench his teeth. 

A bald eagle swooped down on my face, almost creating a severe impact. Luckily, Neil’s lynx punctured it with her teeth and chased it away.

I withstood the third wave of spirit guide attacks until every bit of energy ran out. I felt excruciating pain and realized that I had been scratched by the bald eagle. Since I had been highly alert so that once my nerves slacked, the wound began to hurt like crazy. I strenuously opened my eyes, trying to see what was before me, but for a moment, I couldn’t see anything. My head became leaden, stripping away my sense of direction like immersing me under a current.

I vaguely saw Neil lift his head and shoot twice at a shadow above him. Amid the roaring wind, I heard a ferocious howl somewhere in my front right. I tried to feel out the direction of the sound when a gigantic beast lunged at Neil. I pulled my dagger out but it was already too late. I only heard a gunshot that sounded like a thick whiplash in the air. A bison tumbled down with its shoulder blades hiked up. In the middle of the huge hole that pierced through his ribs, a familiar figure loomed. The man walked through the wreckage on the ground and stopped in front of Neil, leaning over to feel his breath.

I slowly came to realize who he was. The scene before me made me feel an ineffable fear: he also had something that he was afraid to lose?

He stood back up, glanced behind him, and made a gesture. The army of spirit guides automatically split, making way for us. Witnessing him pick up the unconscious guide then put him down in my arms, I was overwhelmed by the myriad of emotions swirling in my heart. I didn’t know if he would regret this someday. To save this guide’s life, he gave up the victory at his fingertips and betrayed the empire he built from the ground up along with its allies. 

He put something in my hand, then left amid the sounds of the propeller blades. 

I opened the thing after he got on the helicopter. It was a letter. While reading it, I couldn’t help but look at Neil’s face on the stretcher bed from time to time. What I recalled was the image of my future self standing beside Neil. 

Was that love? It was more like surrendering, a competition between two cruel people, an admitted defeat in a gamble. 

Before leaving, he only touched the guide’s forehead and leaned down to kiss his scar. I thought I had already known all about Neil, myself, and the truth behind this mission, but perhaps, I had drawn my conclusion too early.   
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little quick explanation here in case you are confused about Kat as I once was. Knott said, in this fanfic, Kat was supposed to be TP’s guide, but they were not bonded. They were probably going to had TP not met Neil. So Neil had been feeling guilty because him bonding with TP led to all the mess, one of the consequences being, obviously, that Kat had nothing to do with TP anymore. (I’m pretty sure in sentinel/guide, you can only bond with one person, and that bond cannot be destroyed unless one of you two dies) So in this chapter, knowing he was gonna die from the inverted bullet, driven by his guilt and his desire for TP to be happy, Neil was trying to give TP another chance in case he wanted to return to Kat.  
> Okay, writing all that just made me super emo XD  
> Hope that helps if you were wondering <333


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: attempted non-con
> 
> Beta'ed by [@yan_zi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yan_zi/pseuds/yan_zi)

The waves gentled down as the lighthouse grew near. The prow swayed no more as its speed accelerated forward. The engine noise became steady and light. Crests of spindrift bloomed around the speedboat like blossoms of mist, reluctant to part for the boat hull. There was no need to keep gripping the operating lever since it was now easy to stand. The prow broke through the water and tipped toward the pier. The boat docked.

I picked up my duffle bag and leaped onto the pier, skimming over the building before me. The entire lighthouse could almost fit in one glance. A few plucks were all it needed to pull off the old rusty lock, making this white building reveal its inside to me. The bottom part was space for guides to rest in. A narrow staircase led to the top of the lighthouse. Once my eyes adjusted to the dimness inside, I couldn’t help but blow out a whistle and shake my head: Rosetta certainly didn’t give a damn about whether the guides would be comfortable here, or if they would like it.

I checked over the stuff in my bag: a set of Rosetta’s sentinel uniform, a gun, a forged ID, and an employee ID. I zipped the bag, tossed it next to my feet, and lied down stretching. By the time my muscles had relaxed, I heard a ship whistle. I thought of Neil and his eyes, weary yet yearning. I thought of when I met him for the first time on a night just like this, how the waves undulated around us as if they had a life of their own. Staring at the light gleaming through the tiny window at the top of the lighthouse, I tried so hard to make myself forget his face, but then in a trance, I fell asleep. 

I woke up with a start in the dark and checked my watch. It was the sound of propellers that woke me. I sat up and pulled out the gun from under the duffle bag. 

Beams of light flickered on the surface of the ocean, shining through the cracks in the door. Looking from here, the Rosetta cargo ship glowed like a city of a million lights. Clamors came through from above, as well as commands of testing and distributing deflectors, and the thuds of helicopters departing the deck. 

A lone ray of light swayed across as if to confirm the situation in the lighthouse. I turned sideways, hid next to the door, and held my breath. A couple of men were pacing on the deck with rifles across their shoulders. I could smell the scent of sweat and alcohol on these sentinels, also their bargaining chips and cash for gambling. Lights on the ship could only illuminate a narrow area below. The back of the ship was entirely concealed in shadow. I waited until the searchlight swayed by again and the darkness immersed the lighthouse before I cracked the door open and peeked toward the end of the ocean. 

A small boat was being lowered. There were three people on it. One of them seemed to be the guide who would stay in the lighthouse tonight while the other two were sentinels escorting him ashore. The two sentinels kept chatting, but the guide stayed very quiet. 

I quickly evaluated the situation. Clamping down the two sentinels first would be too risky. Any sounds they made could alarm others on the ship. The safest option was to wait, wait for them to leave. Maybe their sensory abilities were not too keen, so they wouldn’t notice the trace of another sentinel in the lighthouse. Or maybe they were just getting their task over with, they wouldn’t actually look inside. Unfortunately, neither of my wishes came true.

The two sentinels talked and laughed as they walked in my direction. They weren’t walking side by side, but rather tacitly trailing behind the guide. I realized something. Looking back at them again, this time I paid close attention to those two. One of them strode in a listless and impatient manner, armed with a pistol on an obvious spot of his waist. The other sentinel also had his eyes glued to the guide. He said something and winked at the first sentinel. They exchanged a glance and guffawed. I instantly smelled the pheromones in the air. 

The guide turned away to avoid looking at them. Maybe he was thinking of how to get himself out of the situation, or maybe he was just frightened. The guide must have also realized what I realized just a moment ago: one of the sentinels was in bonding heat. He would instigate his buddy to turn this escort task into their personal treat. 

_Bastards!_

My plan to wait them out got screwed. I swiftly switched off my gun’s safety, snuck to the door, and leaned close to the wall. I could hear them now. The two Rosetta sentinels were already outside the door. Amidst the darkness, I heard their muffled chatting and the sounds of their army boots stepping on the ground. The only thing between us was the door. 

One of the sentinels gave the door a push, then stepped back and said something. After a second of silence, the guide suddenly screamed. I tried hard to stabilize myself as blood rushed up to my brain. I knew too well what just happened—they slapped him. 

I inhaled a lungful of air and swallowed down the rage welling up at my throat. Feeling my lips quiver in wrath, I tightly pressed the gun in my hand. The guide stumbled and coughed, his shoulder bumped on the door, rocking the hinges to the brink of breaking. 

“Open the damn door, you slut! We don’t have a lot of time!”

I heard the other sentinel cursing, his voice sounded distortedly indistinct through the door. I stepped next to the ladder and slightly moved away from the door so that they wouldn’t see me when they opened it. The door was supporting the tumbled body, but now its weight changed. The guide held himself up against the door and got back on his feet. 

After two soft jabs, the lock was picked. Someone impatiently kicked open the door. Then I saw him, the man in bonding heat, a big guy. He spat out the toothpick that he was chewing and signaled for his buddy to shove the guide in. 

The guide seemed like he wanted to stop moving, but the sentinel behind him pushed him in. Even under this kind of dim light, I could see him desperately struggling. I began to slowly move with my body against the wall, obscuring myself in the darkness. One of them raised his gun, ordering the guide to stand against the wall. The other man stroked himself, uttering vulgar sighs. I locked the door back in its place without a sound. The sentinel in bonding heat was more vigilant, spinning his head in my direction, but his buddy shook his head and told him to stop being paranoid. The guide discovered my presence. He snapped his back straight but didn’t look back—he hadn’t forgotten what I had taught him, maybe I should have felt glad for it. 

I glared as the two sentinels cornered the guide to the wall. One of them turned around to guard while the other worked on unbuckling his belt. When I moved closer, the sentinel on guard astutely detected something, spinning his head to sniff—but he didn’t get to make a sound because the next second, my arm strangled his neck and wrung his head to the side. I adroitly caught his falling body, lowered it to the ground, and dragged it next to the wall. 

If the other sentinel was not in bonding heat, he could have heard everything, but instead, he was busy feeling the guide up. He pressed himself against the guide’s back, groping his captive’s body with both hands, too busy sniffing the guide’s neck to notice what had happened to his buddy. The guide must have interfered with his brain, fooling him to believe that everything was alright. By the time I pressed my gun to his back, he was still mumbling “don’t bother me”. He kept reveling until I snatched off his deflector and slapped his face. He turned and saw my face. 

“Go back on the ship,” I spoke word by word, making him hear my command loud and clear, “Tell them everything’s fine. Wireless signal’s confirmed. Your buddy will take the next ship because this guide made him stay.”

He laughed and spit in disdain. “Neil?” He cast a glance at the guide who just turned around, “He never makes anyone stay.”

I struck his face again with a heavy slap, knocking his head to the side and making him bleed. I still had the gun pressed against his back and didn’t move any other part of my body, but he started to fear me now. He carefully gasped in a breath and covered his face with his hand.

“Repeat what I said.”

He did. That slap wiped away the contemptuous smugness from his face. The young guide was now standing behind me, watching the sentinel with me. The sentinel grudgingly finished repeating my command in his cold voice. I nodded, then flipped the gun around and pointed at his gland. His eyes flew wide open. 

“If you don’t do as I said, I will slaughter you,” I purposely said it very slowly, tracing the muzzle down his vein-pulsating neck, “but I won’t let you die right away. I’ll shoot your gland first. A trained sentinel can last seven hours under that condition, how long will you last? Carl? Do you understand what I said?”

He unwillingly nodded. I threw his deflector on the ground and smashed it with a stomp, then I moved my gun a few inches away. As if he had been granted amnesty, the sentinel pulled up his pants and ran out like lightning. 

Behind me, the guide disgruntledly quirked his lips, voicing out a complaint. 

“You should’ve killed him,” he said in resentment.

“That would alert them,” I replied, “Making him report back would make them trust his words more easily. They wouldn’t stop for a sentinel having some fun, but if both of them are missing, they would have to search the entire island.”

“Whatever you say,” he tched, “He’s got a dark guide’s eyes on him from now on anyways. What an idiot. I’ll make his life worse than death. I’ll send nightmares and make him wet his pants. Next time they have shooting training, he’ll only be shooting his own foot.”

I burst into laughter. I turned around and the familiar face came into my view. But he wasn’t a rookie guide anymore. He had finished his training at Rosetta and was sent here for his first job. He squinted his eyes and knitted his eyebrows as he looked at me confused, and he was mad at himself for his confusion. When I looked him over, he nervously carded his hand through his hair and raked it backward. His animosity triggered by the two sentinels had not yet faded. 

Although I knew seeing changes in him was inevitable, I was still stunned at his tense voice and shallow smile. There was something acute about him that he never hid in the past, but now, he gingerly concealed it. I studied him from head to toe, then crooked up my brows.

“Unique social skills, eccentric temper. Looks like,” I said, “you certainly are the guide I know.”

“You didn’t quite change either, you egomaniac,” he retorted, “Only you would say things like ‘he made the sentinel stay’.”

I sensed something from his words and observed his face. He anxiously cleared his throat and averted his gaze.

“Does this kind of thing happen a lot? Do the Rosetta sentinels all seek every opportunity to have fun? Like those two idiots?”

“I can manage.” He sounded a little upset.

“You let those two grope you for ten minutes.”

He stuck his tongue out, “That’s because I knew you’re here.” After saying the ingratiating words, he quickly went on as if he was scared of me nailing his lie, “Don’t argue with me now, Ellis. I’m so tired. Do you not even need to sleep? Why are you here?”

“Other guides would probably now be saying ‘I miss you so much’.”

He shrugged, walked to my makeshift bed, and curiously looked at it. My belongings were very crude, just a gun and two pieces of clothes. He jumped up on the counter where I had been sleeping, reached out his hand to feel the jacket that I used as a blanket, then shrugged again. He picked a spot and sat down on my temporary bed, dangling his legs over the edge of the counter while watching the Rosetta cargo ship leave. Once the gigantic ship vanished, he finally calmed down, his pretended chill attitude fading. He yawned.

“If I say ‘I miss you so much’,” he lifted his face, “will you let me sleep?”

I amusingly observed him a little more.

“You’re worrying if I would do something to you.”

“I’m not worrying.”

“Yes, you are.”

He raised his eyebrows and stared at me. The composure on his face disappeared when I walked toward him and was replaced by a fake panic. He made a funny face and yelled “oh gosh”, then prepared to jump off. But I stopped him. I leaned forward and blocked his lips with mine. His laughter turned into moans. I squeezed in between his legs, wrapped my hands around his waist, and drew him into a deep kiss. Quivering, he slid his hands around my neck, eagerly responding to me. I let him go when he began to pant for air and kept a hand at the small of his back. He lowered his head and rested it against my shoulder with his fervent gaze fixed on my face. 

“Say it,” his fingertips brushed past my temples, soothing my tightened nerves, “what are you really here for?”

“Maybe I just wanted a kiss.”

“You’re not that type,” Neil immediately said, “You definitely came for a certain matter. What is it?”

“I’m here to snatch away a Rosetta guide,” I teased, “I even have the boat ready.”

“Stop kidding me,” Neil found my suggestion ridiculous, “Out of all the people I know, you’re the most loyal to the sentinel base.”

“Not anymore.”

My smile was still on my face, but his turned into worry, “What happened?”

“I founded an organization independent of the sentinel base and the London Tower. Its name is Tenet,” I briefly said, “It’s only at the beginning stage now, but I have great expectations for its future. In other words, I need my guide. Will you be my right arm, Neil?”

Tilting his head, he drew in a breath. There was more shock than surprise on his face. He pulled away from my arms and looked at me with guilt.

“I can’t do it again,” he firmly said, “I don’t want to ever be a part of some plan that I know nothing about, or be a pawn of someone else. You know very well that I’m not the best candidate, so why lie to yourself? My identity as a dark guide, my spirit guide, if these issues are unresolved, I can never work with you as your guide. They locked me up in Rosetta only to tie your hands, but don’t worry, I won’t be a burden to you.”

“So you refuse?” _Not too unexpected_ , I thought. But him saying things like this certainly made me look at him in a new way.

He had grown a lot during this time, but not without a price.

“I would never refuse you.” A blush tinged his cheeks, his voice became husky, “But our bond was just a deal. I know very well that under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t be your first choice. If you don’t want to recruit me for real, then don’t give me the job.”

I understood him. He was only willing to stay as my guide. He wouldn’t even consider any other options. He said his words earnestly, but I understood the pride within them. He was painstakingly protecting his very last shred of dignity, the most fragile part of him.

“I came here to take you with me,” I became quiet for a moment, trying hard to organize my words, “This is not a performance of a sentinel rescuing a guide, Neil. It’s also not to satisfy my own heroism or my ambition. I came here to invite you to be my ally, to be the one who will fight along my side and build a future with me—you’re not being invited as a go-between or a Brixton trainee, but as my guide. You are my only candidate. I have never considered anyone else besides you.”

He contemplated, his eyes fixed on me, “But I’m a dark guide.”

I made a gesture of “it doesn’t matter”.

“I have been strengthening my shield training. You’ll be very impressed.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “You’re nuts,” the look on his face remained stubborn, “How are you gonna snatch me away?”

“First, invite you onto the boat,” I made a funny face, “or tie you up and carry you onto the boat. Kidnapping a guide was actually my childhood dream.”

He humphed, shaking his head again, but this time he looked somewhat soothed. My joke made him silent for a while, then he curved his lips into a troubled smile.

“My...” his jawline tightened, “...my spirit guide is still trapped in the Tower.”

“I got her out,” I said, “Didn’t I say I would find her?”

His eyes widened, staring at me in surprise and joy, “Where?”

“Ives is taking care of her for me right now. She’s safe. Her wounds are also healable.”

His smile enthralled me. He jumped down, and without a warning, he threw himself into my arms. His arms wrapped around me so tight as if he was afraid that once he let go, I was gonna disappear into thin air. His fingers gripped tighter on my back. I turned my head to check the look on his face.

“So, is this a ‘yes’?”

“Well, a certain guide has empathized with your miserable loneliness, so he decided to accept your invitation out of pity—”

“Um-hum,” I said. His repartees always shined in moments like this. 

He lifted his face, brimming with exhilaration, “Take me to your boat now.”

When leaving the lighthouse, I couldn’t resist looking back at the building once again. It was where everything began and now, where everything would end. 

“Ellis,” Neil asked, “where is your original guide?”

“He has already left me,” I said, “he returned to his original sentinel.”

“But why?”

“I found out the truth,” after a moment of silence, I answered, “When bidding farewell to him at Oslo, I asked him a question.”

“What question?”

“I asked him,” my voice quietened, “What kind of an experience was it to be trapped in the London Tower for ten years?”

Spindrifts drowned out my whisper. Neil couldn’t really hear what I said. He walked to my side and gazed at where the waves of spindrifts unraveled. As the translucent wave crests surged up and faded out, he reached out his hand, tentatively held mine on the operating lever, and then interlocked our fingers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our story is almost coming to an end. So why did Protag ask the older Neil "what kind of an experience was it to be trapped in the London Tower for ten years"? Can you guess it? If anyone guesses it, I would be very very very impressed, cuz my brain stopped working when I first read this chapter XD  
> Oh may I point out the line that hit me so hard this time? It's this one:  
>  _It was where everything began, and now, where everything would end._  
>  I was just like T_T  
> Thank you guys as always, for all the comments and kudos!!


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very sorry for not posting the final chapter sooner! Happy Valentines Day<333
> 
> A big thank you as always to my beta, [@yan_zi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yan_zi/pseuds/yan_zi)

I came here for a rendezvous. The person I was waiting for had not yet arrived. When I first got here, I wasn’t restless, but during the time of waiting, my heart began to palpitate. 

It was already dark. I could hear the pedestrians’ footsteps echoing on the quiet street. I rested one arm on the edge of the desk, sat in the chair, and stared at the rays of light swaying in the room. I was patiently waiting, and at the same time, hoping. But what I was waiting for and what I was hoping for were not the same. A sentinel like me could distinguish between thousands of strings of fabric on a tapestry, but couldn’t use the same sensory ability to dissect the room. I had already taken off my coat and rolled my sleeves to my elbows, waiting just like that. There was a door, but my eyes were fixed on the wardrobe across the room, not drifting away from it for even a split second. 

The footsteps of the sentinels in the hall never ceased, but the room I was in had stayed quiescent. Lifting my head from my entangled thoughts, I watched the glimmer that belonged only to nighttime permeate the whole room. I glanced down at my watch, inwardly calculated the time, and an answer loomed in my heart. Soon, the person I had been waiting for would show up in this room. We had never truly said goodbye, but this would be my first time seeing him again after so long. 

Memories never perish, they only transform into the air you breathe in, and now, following my thumping pulse, they rejuvenated.

Before the other person appeared, under the gloomy light, next to the elongated shadows projected by fleeting cars outside, my spirit was raised by an ebullient yearning. 

Like what I imagined before, the wardrobe had been modified. Behind its double doors was an inversion turnstile connecting the future and the past. It could be counted as the only unusual thing in the entire room. Now that I reflected back on it, I even felt surprised for not noticing it the first time I came here. Perhaps it was due to the crude furnishings inside the room, you wouldn’t think there was a secret lying beneath the surface. If the first time I came here, someone had told me that this place would play an integral role in my future, I wouldn’t have believed it. 

I leaned forward, yet couldn’t capture any sounds. 

When the doors finally opened and a figure appeared behind them, I almost forgot how to breathe. My gaze had become rigid after over-concentrating, focusing only on that one spot. The person leaned out from the spinning turnstile and saw me sitting on the chair at first sight. He froze his steps in shock.

In the whole world, there was only one person who was this nervous and shy yet could still illuminate everything before him with a smile. I saw the quiet reluctance on his face. His lips quivered as if wanting to call out my name, but in the end, they just curved into a smile. Not carrying a hint of melancholy, it was a smile simply to express his happiness at seeing me. Veiled under the shadow, his face became nervous.

“How did you know I’d be here?”

“I guessed.”

“You guessed?”

“You know you’re dying, so you definitely won’t return to him,” I said, “If you want to find a hideout, nowhere is more perfect than this sentinel base on Pall Mall. I guessed after you left me, you didn’t actually go back but came here directly instead. The me at this point in time had not yet come into this room and also had not discovered the safe. You got this room under your name a long time ago and arranged it into a subterfuge. I’ve lost count of how many times you’ve lied to me, Neil.”

“Standard operating procedure,” his answer was swift and cunning, “I learned it from you.”

I silently scrutinized his face. The smile on his face grew rigid. His flickering gaze and the taut curves of his muscles were all proof of his insufferable pain. I saw him still wearing the same clothes he had when he left me, only now a little more ragged. Sensing my gaze fixed on him, he slowly pushed out an exhale. He appeared weary and stiff but not rushed. Every time he breathed, the air seemed to be slicing through his windpipe. The stubble that hadn’t been groomed for a while was now a downy shadow covering his lower cheeks and jawline. 

I stood up from the chair and walked toward him. To fight the urge of running away, he exhausted every last shred of his strength. 

“I’ve been waiting here for you,” I told him in a gentle voice, “I don’t wanna be someone who lets his guide die alone.”

He licked his chapped lips and squeezed out a smile.“I think——given my current state, I can’t protest against that.”

“You can’t and don’t even think of trying,” I sternly told him, “I’m a quite stubborn bastard.”

He chuckled but became quiet when my hand stroked up to his face. I carefully studied his face, wiping away the sweat drops and bloodstains on it. This was his second time looking at me intently since the moment he tumbled into the room. The muscles on his neck violently contracted as if someone was forcing a mouthful of whiskey down his throat. His gaze was sharper than before as if it could pierce right through me. His shield was frail and tight, revealing how terrible his condition was. I let down my shield, but the fatigued, hollow-eyed guide refused to accept my help. With his hands touching the wall for support, he stumbled to the bed. 

When I came to the bedside, he had closed his eyes and curled himself up as if he was asleep. I called out his name, and he opened his glassy eyes, staring at me in confusion. 

“You’re still here,” he muttered, “so, you’re not a dream.”

I shook my head. I walked over and sat down beside him. He naturally rolled over and rested his head on my lap, tilting his chin up to look at me. I had to wait until my breathing was no longer ragged to finally make a sound.

“Listen to me,” I said, trying hard to show him a relaxed smile, but my incoherent words were too broken, “When we—left that prison of Sator’s, I met my future self—you were unconscious back then, it was him who saved you, he saved us—I should tell you about this.”

Neil tightly shut his eyes, but his eyelashes were trembling, which meant he was still listening.

“He left a letter behind,” I forced myself to continue, “I read it before you woke up. I also brought it with me, if you want to read it.”

His eyes flew open, eagerly gazing at me. I was sure that none of the things I was about to say was what he wanted to hear, but I had to say them. 

“Do you still remember the question I asked you before you left?” I forced out another smile, “The one about the future?”

“You asked me,” he said with his eyes closed, “what kind of experience it was to spend ten years being locked up in the London Tower.”

“That’s right,” the more I tried to constrain the feelings swelling in my chest, the more untamable they became, “I know the answer now.”

Neil’s lips quirked. His cheeks tinged with a blush of teasing. “What do you know?”

“Everything,” I drew in a deep breath, “All the things you didn’t want to tell me. You tailored a story just for me because you knew me too well. You knew what kind of story would be the most effective. You took my place for those ten years in the London Tower. You only escaped because they found out about it. You knew that once they found out the one they locked up wasn’t me, they would formulate a plan to nip Tenet in the bud. As long as my future self agreed to the plan, they would no longer hunt you down.”

He curved up the corners of his lips as if he just heard the most ridiculous thing in the world. 

“That’s so ridiculous,” he countered me in composure, “If I truly made up all that like you said, then what about the sentinel who captured me in Amsterdam? Don’t forget, you’ve seen him twice or thrice. His actions didn’t quite fit into your so-called truth.”

“Right,” I took a pause, trying hard to not reveal too many emotions, “only if the person I saw was actually him.”

He began to tremble. 

“I didn’t get to see his face,” I said, “so there’s no evidence proving he was my future self—in Amsterdam, only one person made me believe that he was, and that person was you. For all the other occasions, they could have easily found someone to act like him. In fact, now that I think of it, the first time I met the real him was when he gave me the letter, right?”

He froze in my arms.

“You stole the agreement, betrayed him, and caused him to be locked up for ten years in the London Tower. But on the day he escaped, you gouged out your scent gland to not expose where he was,” I recited the story that Neil had told me, “Most parts of it were true, but the characters were switched—you went through the same training as I did, so you knew the best lie would often be the closest to the truth. I’m guessing that after Tenet was founded, it almost got exterminated one time. They thought they had captured him and imprisoned him in the Tower, so all those against him thought they could sleep in peace. But they didn’t think that a guide dared to disguise himself as his sentinel and went to jail in his place. From then on, his sentinel went undercover, and Tenet flourished in the dark, infiltrating the base and Rosetta. The agreement wasn’t stolen. You did gouge out your gland, but it was to prevent the Tower from discovering your identity as a guide. I think they put you in classified confinement, so no one really knew who you were until a failed mission exposed his trace.”

Neil puffed a low chuckle, knitting his brows. 

“The ‘failed mission’—” he imitated my tone, “—was they decided to execute me, and somehow he found out—I guess he had scouts in the Tower too. He came to rescue me, and in doing so exposed himself.”

“So the sentinel in Amsterdam?”

“I had to make you completely trust me.”

“You’re truly formidable.”

“‘At crucial moments, the understanding of human nature can make you prevail,’” he calmly quoted me, “I knew your weaknesses too well. If a guide wasn’t willing to die for you, you would never truly trust him. If I told you that your future self let a guide take your place in jail for ten years, the guilt and the moral burden would have dragged you down. You wouldn’t be able to survive.”

“My future self made you kidnap a woman and a child, was that also a lie?”

He shifted his position on my lap, languidly leaning close, but the pain caused him to hiss.

“Just standard operating procedure, Ellis,” his composure saw me through, “You needed a target, so I gave you an enemy. Whether this enemy was an illusion or not didn’t matter. As long as you believed you were standing for righteousness, you would be able to endure longer—we’re all the same. Your weakness is your conscience, and I’m sorry that I exploited it. I had to save your life.”

I smiled bitterly.

“You truly succeeded,” I said, “You handed the agreement to me and saved my life. You made it able for him to step out of the darkness and live in the light. Your plan saved everyone, except for yourself.”

He bit on his lower lip as if in guilt. But when he looked up at me, he had his emotions hidden again.

“I don’t know who put the agreement here,” he said, “Maybe it was your future self. Only this wasn’t a part of my plan. My scar recurring that night wasn’t fake. But after that—I had to take advantage of it and make up a story. I know this is cruel. Maybe, you’ll never forgive me.”

“I’ve already forgiven you,” I said, “But there’s only one thing I can’t wrap my head around—how did he agree to this plan?”

He fell into silence and averted his gaze.

“If now I tell you Kat’s pregnant—”

“I’ll go to her immediately,” I said without any hesitation, then it suddenly clicked, “You’re saying—”

He nodded.

“Really?”

“Kat and I established a common ground,” he smiled warily, “She wanted you to live, not to spend the rest of your life in prison. We both believed that the Tower would eventually execute its prisoners, and we both didn’t want you to take this risk. That’s also why the first thing I did after inverting myself was to meet her—Now you know everything. You can despise me all you want.”

His words were hesitant as if he was waiting for me to adjudge him guilty. After not hearing my response for a long time, he finally opened his eyes to see me.

“Neil,” I called out his name. 

He tipped up his head, his lips quivering. At first, he was totally at a loss, but he quickly understood the look in my eyes. 

Someone was dying to suppress his trembling breaths and calm his heaving chest. After a moment, I realized that someone was me. I was crying, and Neil had become the one solacing me. He reached up to touch my face and sat up on my lap. I heard the rustling of his clothes and thought of how the guide in my arms had cast off his callowness and candidness, and had transformed into the person he was now. It made me feel a sharp pain as if something unmalleable was incessantly crushing my heart.

We were so close. His hand traveled up to the back of my neck, then his fingers tenderly pressed on my temples. My forehead touched his, and I wallowed in the scent of him. We stayed like that for a moment, quietly lost in the embrace as if time had stopped forever. 

He didn’t mention a word about his wound, but I knew his time was near. His weak, sweat-soaked body struggled to move closer on my lap, so I held him with my arms. His clothes smelled like a mixture of rain and blood. I listened to his unflustered heartbeats then allowed myself to indulge for a moment, holding onto him like my life depended on it. 

“Neil,” I called out again, unable to control the emotions in my voice, “I can’t lose you now. I just began to know you.”

He took in a deep breath and smiled like the first time I saw him at the lighthouse.

“Think of this as a rendezvous,” he whispered, “and you came on time—you said you would never leave a guide behind. You kept your promise until the end.”

In a moment of tears like this, I should’ve been resenting my faint of heart, but I had no time to waste worrying about my appearance. When the choking sobs at my throat became the only sounds I could still make, the guide leaned down and kissed my lips. His palms caressed the back of my neck. We had touched each other in more intimate ways before, but at that moment—I didn’t want it to ever end.

I replied by deepening the kiss. I knew I would remember the tactile sensation of his lips, the curve of his eyelashes leaning toward me, and the palpability of his response. When I let go of his lips, he revealed an air of tenderness. He looked like he was mocking me. His guard and restlessness had become the teasing vibe that I knew too well. One of his hands silently dropped beside him, slipped into my palm, and gave me a comforting squeeze.

“I didn’t want to tell you because I wanted to avoid this kind of scene,” he began to joke, “Both of you so easily break into tears.”

What he said snapped me out of it. I remembered the reason I came. I took out the piece of paper from my shirt pocket and handed it to him. This thin piece of paper was still stained with the blood from his wound that night, and since then, I had kept it on me. He didn’t take the agreement from me, but instead, watched me anxiously. Despite being at his end, he had not lost his acute insight.

“I came here to give the agreement to you,” I said, “I decided to leave it with you because only you deserve to keep it.”

“Ellis.”

“No,” I stopped him from saying what he wanted, “I’ve already read the letter. You should read it too. After that, you will know he has never ever resented you. He just doesn’t know how to face you. He left you behind at the most crucial moment, and because of it, he can never face himself. As for the agreement, we both agree to give it to you. You decide the fate of Tenet.”

He sighed in disbelief, “What are you really trying to say, Ellis?”

“Go back,” I said, “make it to your rendezvous—at point zero where everything began, you have a promise with him too, don’t you? He is waiting for you. Give yourself a chance to see him again. Let him heal you. Don’t make me bear the infamy of causing my guide’s death.”

He smiled in defeat and shook his head. But his face recovered some of its liveliness, even his gaze on me restored its vigor. 

“Your bad jokes,” he said, “You’re not gonna change that in this life. You’re really going to leave this file at my disposal?”

“Yes,” I summoned up all my courage, “and I won’t leave unless I see you go through the turnstile.”

We both heard the noise—the Neil of the past was walking out from the elevator, getting out of the guard’s sight, and approaching Mr. Pierce’s door. My past self was being pulled up by the rope, plunging down from the forty-story building. 

Neil tilted his head and listened. With a faint smile, he gestured to me to stay quiet. Then in the blink of an eye, the guide had broken free from my arms, leaving only a gentle kiss on my forehead. He typed in the passcode, opened the safe, placed the agreement in it, then gave me a meaningful look. I shrugged, not expressing any objection to his decision. 

I watched as his figure vanished from my sight then heard the approaching footsteps. It was time for me to exit the stage.

When Neil of the past arrived in hasty steps, I had already left the flat. I hid from him so he wouldn’t see me, but the thoughts he had as he picked the lock hung a smile on my face. He was considering making it difficult for me, maybe he was right—after two minutes, my past self would be lowered to the window, and Neil would be opening it up for him. They wouldn’t know anything about it, and I was going to leave here alone. Everything ticked back to point zero, and I believed this was the best farewell.

I walked out of the sentinel base’s gates and came onto the street. My guide was waiting for me in the rain. He was confused about my tear-streaked face.

“What happened?” Neil whispered by my ear.

In the elevator ride down, I had imagined this young man’s face, but once I saw him again in front of my eyes under the light, I couldn’t help but hold my breath. 

“I went to a rendezvous.”

“A good one?”

“The kind that returns everything back to point zero.” I quietly nodded, knowing that I couldn’t really move on at that moment, but a few minutes later, I would recover. I would overcome that barrier, return to the normal life, and plan out the future again; in my imagination, I tentatively tried to find a place among the deceased for the face carved into my memory and the scar on his neck, but they didn’t quite fit. So I tried to imagine his face among the survivors, and like someone frozen in ice coming back to consciousness: I could see him now.

The past and future were like unknown realms, while I was suspended in the present. I stepped under the umbrella and pulled the young man into an inseparable embrace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we have it, the complete story of Rendevous Zero. A complete circle, back to point zero.
> 
> Thank you guys so much for following this story! I wanna thank Knott again for composing this beautiful fanfic and allowing me to bring it into the English fandom of Tenet! Also, I gotta thank my precious friend, yan_zi, for betaing the entire thing for me even during her super busy schedule. 
> 
> Translating Rendevous Zero has brought so much joy to me. The past year or so had not been the easiest for me (I'm sure many of us felt the same), but encountering this piece of fanfic on AO3 at the end of the year just lightened up my spirit when I seriously needed it. Finding a piece of writing that completely fits my taste is honestly the best thing I could ask for. I hope I was able to bring the beauty of this story into English for you guys. 
> 
> Thank you for all the kudos and comments! You guys made my day countless times! It had been such a fun time! There are 2 side stories to Rendezvous Zero. I might translate them too in the future and add them to this work. 
> 
> In the end, (I'm trying not to sound cheesy lol) I hope everyone who has enjoyed this fanfic will have someone who loves you like how Neil loved the protagonist in Rendevous Zero: brave, stubborn, and never yielding to the power of time.


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